


From the Missing Pages

by gray_autumn_sky



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 76,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps there was more to Page 23 than the Author allowed Regina to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Robin looks up from the bar and immediately forgets everything he’s supposed to doing, all he can manage to do is stand there and stare. Beautiful seems to be an understatement—standing there in the doorway with her long, dark locks hanging freely around  her shoulders contrasted by her olive skin and a thin, crisp pearl-white dress, she’s simply breathtaking. And when she smiles shyly at him, he can’t help but smile back.

Taking a step in, she looks around uncomfortably. He can tell that her heart is racing—she’s nervous about something and very obviously out of place in his tavern. She moves toward the bar gracefully—regally almost—and to his surprise, sits down.  Their eyes meet and for a moment, he’s at a complete loss for words.

When she doesn’t say anything, he realizes that he has to. “Can I offer you something, m’lady?”

“Oh, um…” She looks around and he ventures that she’s never been inside of a tavern. “I don’t know…” Unwilling to serve her the ale he’s been serving up all night, he to the shelves behind him, to find something a little more refined. After searching for a moment, he grabs a bottle and uncorks it; then, he grabs two short glasses and pours—one for her and one for himself. She looks at it, examining the amber liquid. “What…is it?

“A house specialty,” he replies. Her eyebrows rise. “An apple cider.”

She up from the glass, her smile bright smile grows brighter as if he’s just done something profound. “Apple—my favorite. How did you know?”

He grins and clinks the side of his glass against hers. “It must be fate,” he muses.

“It must be,” she replies, her dark eyes shining as she takes a sip.

Leaning forward, he props his elbows up on the bar and he notices that her eyes drift toward the tattoo on his forearm. He looks down at it, too. “Remnants of another life.”

Her head tilts, “Another life?”

“Seems like it,” he says with a nod. “A life I left long ago.”

“Any regrets?” She asks as her eyes meet his. “Do you ever think leaving it all behind was a mistake?”

“Never,” he replies easily. “I wasn’t meant for that life. I’m happier now. I live my life the way I decide and live by own rules.”

She smiles, but this time, there’s something sad behind it. “I envy that.”

“Do you?” He asks curiously.

She nods, looking down at the cider, “More than you know.”

For a moment, a silence falls between them and again, the sadness returns to her eyes. Narrowing his own eyes, he watches her—in addition to her beauty, there’s something mysterious about her and perhaps something rebellious; but, more than anything he finds himself inexplicably drawn to her, which only adds to the mystery that surrounds her.

“So, you changed your direction,” she says, her voice full of wonder. “You changed your fate.”

He considers her words carefully, “I suppose you could say that.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

“I do, m’lady,” he replies easily. “But I don’t believe fate is some magical force, but something you create.” He pauses for a moment, trying to gauge her thoughts, but finding himself unable. “Do you believe in fate?”

“I don’t know. I want to, though,” she admits softly. He watches as a small grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I think I like your definition better than my own.” She nods, “I think I can believe in that sort of fate.”

Robin grins and watches as she takes another sip of the cider. He can’t help but notice how out of place she seems, though she’s relaxed considerably. “M’lady, I can’t help but wonder,” he begins, waiting for her eyes to meet his, “what a woman like you is doing in a tavern like this.”

“I…suppose you could say that I’m trying to change my fate.” She nods, as if pleased with that concept. “I’m looking for a new adventure.”

“A new adventure,” he repeats. “Well, m’lady, I am certainly glad that you chose me to be a part of it.”There’s a flash of something in her eyes and she smiles; he notices, the sadness has faded and he likes to think that he had a part in that. For a moment, he hesitates. Taking a long swig of his cider, he takes a chance. “Would you like to…move to a table? Somewhere quieter?” He grins. “I would love to hear more about this adventure.”

“I’d like that,” she says definitively, as he steps around the bar and grabs the bottle of cider. He motions to Little John, who takes his place manning the bar. Helping her off her stool, he leads her to a corner table, away from the crowd.

He pulls out a chair for her and she smiles sweetly, “Such a gentleman.”

“Many would disagree with you,” he says with a chuckle as he slides into the seat across from her and refills their glasses. She thanks him and takes a sip, and he watches, still completely captivated by her every movement.  He finds himself blushing when she catches him staring. “I’m sorry, m’lady…”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says quickly. “And, ‘m’lady’ seems awfully formal.”

“What then should I call you?”

She hesitates before finally saying, “Please, just call me Regina.”

“Regina,” he repeats, as he looks her up and down, deciding that it suits her. “Such a pretty name.”

This time, it’s she who blushes.

“And, what do I call you?”

“Most formally, I am Robin of Locksley,” he tells her and with a grin adds, “But since we are dropping all of the formalities, call me Robin.”

She smirks and once again, he finds himself completely fascinated by her. He watches the way she glances around the tavern once more, seeming genuinely interested in it, taking in all of the details.  He watches as she glances toward the bar where Little John is now serving ale. “And this is your tavern?”

He nods, realizing a barkeep must be fairly low on the ladder of her world, “It is.” He watches as she looks around, taking it in. “A humble, little tavern, but all mine, nonetheless.” He points to the stairs, “There’s a small apartment upstairs where I live and a stable out back, where…”

“A stable?” Her face lights up and he’s pleased to have found a common interest.

“Do enjoy riding?” He asks, though he can easily guess her response.

“I do,” she tells him. “I have since I was a girl. It’s the only time I feel…free. The world and all its rules and my obligations to it just fade away and I can escape.” She pauses, “At least for a little while.”

“Well, then I suppose it’s a good thing that you enjoy it so much.” She smiles, and again, he sees the sadness behind it. He’s only partially surprised that it makes his own heart ache. He hesitates for a moment, realizing that though his words may seem bold, they won’t likely be ill received. “We should go riding together, sometime.”

It’s not a question, but a statement and it makes her smile.“I’d like that,” she tells him, as her bottom lip catches between her teeth. “So rarely do I have anyone to ride with. Well, except…” She stops herself suddenly and he wonders what she was going to say. “Anyway, I would really enjoy having you with me.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Are you…free tomorrow afternoon?” He can tell that she’s holding her breath, anticipating his reply.

He smiles brightly, “Are you suggesting that we go riding tomorrow.”

She hesitates and her cheeks flush slightly. “Well, only if…”

“I would love to.”

She brightens and he can’t help but smile. She’s no longer nervous, but still shy and she drops her eyes down to her cider, focusing on it for a moment before taking a sip. It’s obvious she’s never done something like this before and it makes her all the more endearing.

“Regina,” he begins in a tentative voice. He smiles gently as she looks up at him. “Before, you asked me if I believe in fate.” She nods. “Now, I have a question for you.”

“I’m listening,” she tells him, her eyes still holding his.

“Do you believe in… “He pauses and slowly reaches out to slide his hand over hers, hardly able to believe the words that are about to come out of his mouth because before this evening, he would have never said them. “…in love at first sight?” Again, he smiles, somewhat in disbelief but also in complete awe as his heart pounds in his chest. “That there are people who are just meant to be in our lives, who we are meant to love, who we’re just drawn to, regardless of circumstance. And from the first moment we lay eyes on them, we just…know.”

“I do,” she says sincerely.

She looks away shyly and her lips part as if she’s about to say something; however, something in the distance catches her eye and immediately, her demeanor changes. He watches as the color suddenly drains from her face and her shoulders grow tense.  He can feel her hand begin to tremble and a shallow whimper squeaks out from her throat. She is looking past him and her eyes are suddenly full of fear.

“Regina?” Robin asks with a voice full of alarm. He squeezes her hand, “Regina?”

When she doesn’t respond, Robin turns to see two knights walking through the tavern. He glances back at her and watches as her eyes follow the knights. Again, he looks back at them and notices they bare King Leopold’s crest. Slowly, he turns to look back at her. He watches her for a moment and for a split second, he doesn’t understand.

He watches as her eyes return to him. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes are filed with fear as she holds his gaze, and waits.

“Regina,” he says again, her name falls slowly from his lips and his eyes widen as he begins to understand. “Regina, as in… _Queen_ Regina.”

“Yes,” she replies in a barely audible voice, as she looks away from him.

He looks from her to the knights and then back to her. His shock begins to wear. “I apologize for being so informal before. I didn’t know, _Your Majesty_.”

His words bite and he watches as tears brim in her eyes. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” she tells him.

Again she looks away and he finds himself consumed with a feeling of guilt. The fear in her eyes was placed there by the king’s knights; the tears were placed there by his words.  Quickly, he glances over his shoulder and sees the knights drinking at a table, happily flirting with his barmaids.

“I don’t think they’re here for you,” he tells her, as he turns his attention back to her.

She looks up and exhales, but she keeps her head down in obvious discomfort. She looks completely defeated and his heart breaks.

With glistening eyes, she looks up at him. “We won’t be riding together tomorrow, will we?” She asks in a curt, yet soft voice. She asks as if she already knows the answer.

“Regina,” he begins with a sigh as he looks down at the table. It’s only then that he realizes he’s still holding her hand. He can’t bring himself to let go. “What you’re asking me to do is potentially treason.”

“It’s not potentially treason,” she corrects. Her voice has gone flat. “It is treason.”

“You can’t expect a law-abiding citizen to go along with that,” he tells her. She only nods and tries to withdraw her hand from his, but he won’t let her. He closes his fingers around hers and forces her to look at him. “Fortunately for you, I am not a law-abiding citizen.”

The meaning of his words creeps in a slowly and the tears brimming in her eyes sneak out the corners as a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“You see, in addition to being a barkeep, I’m—for lack of a better word—a thief.”

“A thief?” She asks as her eyebrow arches. “How intriguing,” she adds, clearly not put off by this detail.

He grins slyly. “I told you, I live by my own set of rules.” Briefly, he glances over his shoulder to check on the two knights. They’re surrounded now and he can faintly hear them telling a tall tale of an adventure in some distant land. They are completely oblivious to the queen’s presence and for that, he feels grateful. Turning back to her, he reaches out and wipes away a stray tear. “And right now,” he tells her, “There’s nothing I want more than to steal the Queen’s heart.”

Regina smiles, and turns her face into his palm. He’s relived to see the fear has gone from her eyes.

“You can’t steal something if it’s being given to you,” she tells him.

“Excellent point,” he laughs. When she smiles, so does he. There are a thousand questions he wants to ask her, but he doesn’t. Instead, he focuses on something much easier. “You said you’ve been riding since you were a girl.” She nods. “I would love to hear more about that.”

“Oh,” she says in surprise, “That’s not even close to what I thought you’d ask after learning who I am.”

Robin nods, “That’s because I’m not interested in your position. I’m interested in you.”

Her smile melts his heart and he listens carefully to every detail of her story. There’s an easy contentment that settles into their conversation. They talk about horses and stables and childhood riding lessons. Though he doesn’t tell her, the story of her childhood isn’t all that different from his own. He laughs at her nearly offended expression when he asks if she rides side-saddle, and relishes in her laughter when he calls her a horse whisperer. He’s completely enchanted by her.

Slowly, she pulls back. “I really hate to say this, but…I should go.” She nods toward an open window. “It’s nearly dawn and the last thing I need is a maid reporting my absence to the king. No one knows that I’m gone.” She pauses and adds in a disinterested voice, “Not that anyone really notices when I’m there…”

Robin grimaces, hating to think of her lonely and caged. Once more, he glances back at the knights and realizes the crowd has thinned, though the knights remain, having relocated to corner tables with their barmaids. “I’ll take you out the back way,” he tells her, as they rise from the table. He takes her hand and guides her along the perimeter of the tavern, careful not to let her be seen.

When they reach the tavern’s back entrance, Robin looks out into the night. “Are you sure I can’t take you?”

“My horse is just there,” she tells him, pointing to beautiful animal tied to a post. “I know the way.”

“So, this is goodbye.”

“For now,” she tells him, her eyes shining.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” he tells her in earnest, before a sly grin forms on his lips. “Your Majesty.”

He laughs out when she swats his arm. He can’t help but smile. She looks happy and that makes him happy. Taking a breath, he leans in and lets his mouth hover just above hers. He’s so close that he can feel her warm breath on his lips and the rhythm of her heartbeat. Slowly, he reaches out and his hand finds her waist. His hand slips along the small of her back as he draws her closer. He holds her for a moment, enjoying the feel of having her so close to him. Their eyes meet for a brief moment before she leans in and closes the gap between them.

The kiss is electrifying.

Her lips are warm and soft and inviting, and the longer he kisses her the more he craves her. His entire body tingles, every nerve feels exposed and he wants nothing more than to let it continue, to take her upstairs and hold her all through the night.

Breathless, he withdraws and rests his forehead against hers.

“Tomorrow, then?”

Leaning in she leaves fleeting kiss on his lips. “Tomorrow, then.”

She turns away from him and mounts her horse. She offers him a small wave before riding off into the night. He watches until she vanishes. That evening she’d asked him if he believed in fate and he told her he did, or at least, a man-made version of it. But now, he can say without reservation, he absolutely believes because he’s found the woman he is fated to spend the rest of his life loving.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The affair begins–the day after meeting at the tavern, Robin and Regina spend an afternoon getting to know each other.

Before her eyes are even open, a smile is edging over her lips as she thinks of him—the way he made her laugh, the way he listened so intently, the way he looked at her as if she were the only woman in the room. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she thinks of how he’d kissed her—so softly, yet so intensely—until her head was spinning. It had been so long since anyone had made her feel that way—made her feel safe and content, made her feel like she mattered—and when she remembers she’ll be seeing him again that afternoon, her cheeks flush and her smile widens at the possibility of what could be.  

“Well, well, well. I thought you’d never wake up.” Regina’s eyes flutter open at the sound of the fairy’s sing-song voice. “Looks like someone had a late night.” She feels her cheeks flush deeper as Tinker Bell leans forward. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d put yourself under sleeping curse,” she muses, giggling to herself as Regina’s eyes roll. “So, tell me...what was he like?”

“He was…wonderful,” Regina breathes out, shaking her head in disbelief. “He was…completely wonderful.”

She spends the next hour explaining  what _completely wonderful_ entails, recapping the past night’s events in detail—from the lightness she felt to the apple cider, to the discussions of fate and horses, to the electrifying kiss at that ended their evening and the promise of plans for that afternoon. Tinker Bell sighs contently, clearly pleased with herself—and Regina is content to let her take the credit for the match.

It’s only after Tinker Bell leaves and she’s alone in her dressing room, allowing a ladies’ maid to pull her hair into a braid as another maid selects a riding outfit for her, that she beings to worry. Though its already occurred to her time and time again that things are not nearly as simple as she would like them to be, and what she’s asking him to do is dangerous, a knot begins to form in her stomach as she considers how badly this could end and contrary to how it feels, a happy ending really isn’t a possibility for them. Taking a breath, she watches as the maid ties the braid with a blue ribbon, and she pushes away her fears and focuses on the present—the king is away for the next month and until his return, there’s no reason to worry.

______

Regina watches as Robin spreads out a thick blanket on the riverbank, as their horses bend for a drink. They’ve spent the entire afternoon riding and laughing, talking about menial, unimportant things that suddenly have turned into moments that mean the world to her. Though they’ve known each other a matter of hours, there’s an easy comfort between, an understanding, a bond, forged somewhere between laughs and tentative touches. Already, she feels safer with him than she does with anyone else in her life and she can’t remember the last time she felt this happy, this free or this light. She feels like she could float away—and she ventures that as long as he could float away with her, she’d be content, wherever they landed.   

“So, tell me,” he begins, offering her his hand as he sits down on the blanket and pulls her down beside him. “How did I get to be so lucky?” She watches as his fingers press lightly to her wrist, gently and almost absently rubbing back and forth, and her breath catches at the thought that someone would feel lucky to be with her. She shakes her head, not quite understanding how that’s a possibility, but grateful that it is. “Last night, you walked into a random tavern on the outskirts of your kingdom, struck up a conversation with a random man behind the bar, and somehow managed to convince him to have a treasonous adventure with you.” He grins. “I’m just wondering how I got to be so lucky to be the one you chose.”   

“I don’t know,” she muses coyly, not quite ready to tell him a story of magical pixie dust that could lead a person to their soul mate, that led her to him, wondering if he’d even believe it.  “Perhaps, it was just…chance.”

“Or fate.”

She nods, “Perhaps it was.” 

His blue eyes glitter as he leans back on his elbows. “You’re not at all what I imagined you to be.”

“You imagined me?” She asks, her eyebrow arching in surprise.

“Everyone imagines what the Royal Family is like—even those of us who don’t considered ourselves monarchists,” Robin answers with an easy laugh. “Everyone is quite taken by your husband—the benevolent king, they call him.”

She nods. It’s no secret that the kingdom loves their king—is obvious whenever he travels into the villages. People line the streets and wave, they smile and cheer and blow kisses; and Leopold always stops the carriage at some point, getting out and shaking hands, passing out gold coins to small children and listening to villagers concerns as if he actually cares about them. It’s an illusion, though—a carefully and intentionally crafted illusion that gives the villagers a since of peace and importance. They never seem to notice how contrary the king is—with his lavish balls and decadent palaces—and they never seem to notice that their condition never improves, despite his promises.

“Not everyone,” she murmurs quietly.

“Not you,” he clarifies.

She nods, “Not me.” She takes a breath. “My marriage is…” She stops; she’s not sure how to describe it, so she doesn’t Instead, she shifts the conversation away from Leopold; he’s already consumed so much of her life, forcing himself where he didn’t belong, and she doesn’t want him to consume this, too. So, she takes a short breath and shifts the subject. “And what about me?” She asks, already knowing the answer—after all, it’s also no secret the love the villagers feel for their king does not extend to the queen.  Robin clears his throat and she grins. “They hate me. I already know. You don’t have to sugar-coat it.”     

“Hate is a…strong word,” he hedges. “I would say that you’re shrouded in mystery and…people don’t like what they don’t understand.”  Considering it, she grins—it doesn’t bother her that she’s not beloved—she never wanted to be their queen and she certainly isn’t interested in offering them false promises simply so that they like her. “I, on the other hand, enjoy a bit of intrigue.”  

“Well, I appreciate your candor...and your attempt to spare my feelings.” Her bottom lip catches between her teeth as curiosity gets the best of her. “What else?”

“What else…about you?” He asks. She nods and watches as he consider for a moment, still gently caressing her wrist. She watches him hesitate for a moment as smile twists onto his lips and his eyes come to meet hers. “Is is true that you dabble in dark magic? Your mother was quite the sorceress, I hear.”

“Oh,” she blinks as her heartbeat quickens, watching as his fingers swirl in figure-eight motion before she slowly pulls her hand away. “I…”

“You don’t have to answer that,” he’s quick to say, realizing that he’s struck a nerve. Her eyes shift up to meet his and she holds his gaze as she considers what he knows—wondering if he knows that when she’d summoned Rumplestiltskin to help her harness her natural magic she’d done it in a failed attempt to save a lost love, she’d done it in desperation, she’d done it in spite of herself. For a second, she’s so caught up in what he might know or what he might think that she barely notices that his eyes are soft and sincere, that he didn’t ask in a way that was meant to judge, just in a way that was curious. “I’m…sorry,” he tells her.  

“No, its fine,” she murmurs back. “I just…didn’t realize that was common knowledge.”

Tentatively, he reaches out and once more takes her hand in his. “It’s…not,” he admits quietly. “I just pay attention to detail.” He offers her a sheepish grin as her brow furrows. “I told you—I’m a common thief, and that castle you live in would be quite the conquest,” he chuckles awkwardly. “The sort of heist that dreams are made of.”  

At that, she laughs out and relaxes a little bit. “The crown jewels mean nothing to me,” she tells him, as a grin stretches across her lips. “And just between you and me, I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to. I can barely muster a fireball, so as long as you had a bucket of water or even just a good set of lungs, getting past me wouldn’t be difficult.” She takes a breath. “Magic is natural for me, but that doesn’t mean I’m very good at it. And even thought I dabble in dark magic, doesn’t mean that I’m dangerous.”  

“I didn’t think you were.” He pauses for a moment. “But…why then? If your magic came naturally and you haven’t gained power through dark magic, why explore it? Why…open yourself up to it?”  

Her smile fades, but she doesn’t withdraw from him. Instead she tells him—she tells him that when she was sixteen she realized she was in love with the stable boy she’d grown up with and they’d planned to run away together. She tells him about that fateful day when they were eighteen, when they’d been riding through the meadow on her parents’ estate and a little girl on a runaway horse screamed for help and how that one event  changed everything; and then, she goes on to tell him about the chain of events that happened after that point, from the king’s proposal to Daniel’s death and everything between it.  

She feels the anger churning at her core as she retells the painful story, a story she’s never actually told. For a moment, she considers pulling away, but he slides his hand up her arm in a way that’s comforting. She realizes, as she sits beside him, that the anger doesn’t feel as all-consuming as it was once had—it’s still there, yet somehow, it’s more tolerable. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells her in a voice full of sincerity. “I’m sorry that you had to lose someone that you loved—and that it had to happen in a way that only worsened the pain.” She feels a familiar lump rising in her throat and warns herself not to cry—this isn’t the time nor the place—and then she feels the back of his hand stroke her cheek. “Betrayal is never an easy thing to bear.”

She blinks—no one has ever said that to her about Daniel’s head, no one has ever seen it as a betrayal even though that’s always how she felt. Not telling the story was never about not wanting to talk about it or sparing herself the pain, it was just that she never had the chance. There had never been anyone she could confide in and certainly never anyone who would take her side.   

She finds herself leaning in, letting her lips brush over his as she’s suddenly overwhelmed with a mix of contradictory emotions. She pushes herself closer as she sucks at his lips, craving him more and more. She slides her tongue over the seal of his lips, expecting them to part and for him to allow this to continue, but instead, he gently pushes her back, quickly pecking her lips. Her eyebrows arch as she starts to withdraw, her cheeks flushing at the idea that she somehow misunderstood.  

But his hand slides over her hip as the other cradles her jaw, his fingertips rubbing against her cheek. “Not like this,” he murmurs. “I just…don’t want you to have regrets…especially not when this is just getting started.” She tips her head and a small smile starts to pull at the corner of his mouth. “I may be a thief, but I am also a gentleman and I won’t take advantage of a vulnerable woman.” 

“Who says I’m vulnerable?”

He shakes his head and laughs a little. “Well, if you won’t the tears glistening in your eyes surely would.” He leans in again, pecking her lips again. “And that kiss was feeling like it was going places.” She scoffs, laughing slightly as her head dips forward—he’s known her such a short time, and already he seems to have her figured out. “Did I just…ruin this?” He asks as he lifts her head. “Because I would hate to think that…”

“No,” she interjects. “No, you haven’t and…surprisingly, I don’t think I have either.”

“You haven’t,” he assures her with a soft grin. “Not at all.”

She takes a breath as she readjusts herself on the blanket beside him. “So, you now know quite a bit about me,” she begins as she lies back on elbows. “Yet, I know so little about you.”

“You know that I own a tavern, that I’m an unapologetic thief...” 

“But that’s _all_ I know,” she tells him.

“Just tell me what you want to know,” he replies easily. “I’m an open book.” She grins, considering for a moment. “Though, I must say, you are going to be disappointed. Contrary to how it may seem, I have not led an interesting life.”

Laughing her eyebrow arches, “Somehow, I don’t think you’re being truthful.” He only smirks in reply as her eyes linger over him, finally settling on the lion tattoo on his forearm as a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. Slowly, she reaches out and slides her fingers over the tattoo. “I know this has a story,” she begins. “Last night you told me it was a story for another time—now is another time.”  

His eyes fall away from hers, focusing on her fingers as they trace the outline of his tattoo. “Yes,” he says, chuckling softly after a moment. “But it’s a dull one.”

“I still want to know.”

He nods. “It’s my family’s crest—and my father had my brothers and I branded for our sixteenth birthdays.”

“Branded,” she repeats. 

He nods again and sighs. “Yes, a painful tradition—and in families like mine, tradition was everything.” She smiles faintly—she fully understands. “My family was noble, but I was a younger son—the youngest, actually—and I wasn’t meant to inherit much.” He pauses and for a moment, he seems to drift away. “My father died rather unexpectedly and my brothers and I kept getting into these petty fights over ridiculous things cufflinks and a sword gifted by some distant and likely dead king, so…one day I…made off with silver and never looked back.” A faint smile forms on his lips. “I just got on my horse and suddenly I was…”  

“…free,” she supplies as his voice trails off as she flicker of envy streaks through her. “That must have felt…” This time it’s her voice that trails off as she looks away from him. For the first time that afternoon the gravity of what they are doing begins to weigh on her shoulders. She takes a breath as a small voice in her head tells her to end this now, before they got in too deep, but his touch stops her thoughts. Swallowing hard, looks back at him as he trails his fingers up her arm. “…amazing,” she finishes, slowly breathing out the breath she barely knew she was holding.

He hesitates for a moment and she can feel his staring intently. “I know we’re supposed to be focusing on me, but can I ask you something else?” She nods. “You were a princess in your own right, weren’t you?”

“Sort of—it’s complicated. But yes, my grandfather was a king.”

“Why do you stay?” He asks, somewhat abruptly. “Why not run away? Start a new life somewhere…somewhere that doesn’t make you miserable.”

“That’s…also complicated,” she tells him, shaking her head and wishing she’d had the freedom that he’d had. “But he’s very possessive of what’s his and he doesn’t like to lose. He’d find me and likely have me killed...or worse.” Smiling sadly she shrugs her shoulders. “I know he’s known for being a good man, for being a kind-hearted man, but…that kindness doesn’t extend to me.”

He takes her hand and gives it a soft squeeze. “I’m…sorry.”

She shrugs again and smiles meekly, “It’s not your fault…”

“I know, but still, I’m sorry that you feel so trapped.”

“I am, too.” She sighs, inhaling a short but sharp breath before looking back at him and mustering a smile. “But I didn’t feel trapped today.”

“No?”

“No,” she says shaking her head. “Not today.”

“I’m glad,” he says as a soft smile forms over his lips. “So, how long did you say the king would be away?”

“A month.”

He nods and his smile deepens, “And what a wonderful month it’ll be.”

She laughs out and nods, “So far, it’s off to quite a start.”

“It is,” he agrees as he glances past her, looking up at the darkening sky. “It’s nearly dusk. Do you need to get back? I’d hate for you to get into trouble with…”

“Not yet,” she murmurs as she slides closer to him, smiling as his arm folds around her shoulders as she looks out at the river, she watches the water ripple. “The sun’s about to set—and it’d be a shame to miss it.”

He nods and rests his head atop hers—and in that moment, she feels so content. There’s a fluttering in her chest that’s both foreign and familiar—the pixie dust didn’t lead her astray and she knows that she’s falling in love.

_____

She’s still smiling as she sits at her dressing table, unraveling her long braid completely lost in her thoughts. She doesn’t hear the door open or the footsteps coming toward her, but when she looks up at sees his reflection in her mirror, she startles and turns to face him.

“Where were you?”

She blinks, “I…was riding.”

“You were gone all day.”  

“I just…wanted to some alone time,” she says with a slight nod as a smile slowly edged onto her lips and her thoughts once more trail to Robin. “I…lost track of time.”

Henry nods and his eyes narrow as if he’s trying to decide whether or not he believes her. “You…look happy, Regina,” he says, his own smile slowly forming. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like this since…” His voice trails and his eyes darken, and she wonders if he knows she’s making an excuse. “Well, it’s just been too long.”

“I had a…peaceful ride,” she explains, only partially lying as her eyes meet her father’s. “I went down by the river and sat for awhile. It was…nice. It was relaxing…”

“I’m glad,” he says in earnest. “I’m glad that you’re happy.” This time it’s Regina whose eyes narrow and once more she wonders if he believes her lie or if somehow, he knows. He comes closer, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “If you’ve found something that brings you happiness,” he whispers, “I hope you’ll keep up with it. You deserve something in your life that makes you happy.” 

He pulls back and smiles once more, and she watches him go, still unsure of what he knows and what he believes; nonetheless, she smiles at his advice and his wish for her to be happy—and she is sure that she’s found something that makes her happy and she no intention of giving that up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin surprises Regina by finding a creative way to continue their love affair, even after Leopold and Snow return from the summer castle.
> 
> In this chapter there are mentions of marital rape. This is also the chapter that changed the rating to explicit, but NOT because of the rape. That part is NOT explicit.

“You are kidding me,” Regina laughs, watching as Robin extends his hand to her. “You expect _me_ to _climb_ into that _tree_?” She shakes her head and places her hands on her hips. “You’re _crazy_.”

“Oh, come on, Regina,” he says as a grin twists onto his lips and he wiggles his fingers at her. “Don’t you trust me?”

Pressing her lips together she takes a breath—of course she trusts him. For the past three weeks, they’ve seen one another daily, spending most of their days riding through the forest and exploring, talking and kissing, slowly but surely getting to know one another and little by little falling in love. He know most of her secrets and she knows his—and there’s no one she trusts more. So, she takes his hand and slowly curls her fingers around his.

A few minutes later, they’re nestled together in the branches. She leans back into him, smiling as his arms tighten around her; and she can’t help but smile as he presses a kiss into her shoulder. Despite the fact that they’re high above the ground, she feels perfectly safe, completely trusting that he would never let her fall.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” he murmurs as his lips move to her jaw, trailing feathery kisses to her neck and then back again. “What are you thinking about?” She tries to smile as her breath catches in her chest and momentarily, she doesn’t know what to say. She’s not sure how to tell him that what they have has to end or at the very least, it has to change. She doesn’t want to talk about Leopold’s return or what that will mean for her. “You seem so far away.”

He pulls her closer and holds on tighter as if he knows what she’s about to say. Turning her head, she looks back at him from over her shoulder—watching as he watches her with soft eyes. “I just…wish that we could stay like this forever,” she says quietly, once more failing to muster a smile.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You know…we can. We _can_ stay like this forever.”

“Robin…”

“Run away with me,” he says. “Let’s go somewhere far away, somewhere where we can just start over. Somewhere we can be together.” He sighs as she looks away, staring out at the afternoon sky, wishing more than anything that it were as simple as that. “I know I can’t give you much, but I can make you happy.”

“I wish we could.”

“We _can_ , Regina,” he insists. “We can.”

But she shakes her head and lets out a shallow breath. “He’s coming back.” Swallowing hard, she turns her head, trying not to dwell too much on what that means for her. “I got a note this morning—I’m scheduled for a dress fitting tomorrow and there’s a ball the following day to celebrate his return.”

“So, we could leave tonight—we could leave now.” He smiles softly. “You did say you wanted an adventure…” 

“No,” she says, shaking her head, wishing more than anything her answer could be different. “He’d find us. And if he didn’t, you that…”

“I know...” He sighs, the disappointment evident in his voice. “I know.” 

“Robin, if you don’t want to con…”

“Stop,” he says, hugging her tighter. “Not continuing this isn’t an option. I won’t give up on you or on us. I know that it’s dangerous, but you’re more than worth the risk.” He pauses and presses a kiss into her hair. “I don’t like it, but I can accept that you can’t run away with me and I can accept that there are limits that you’re not ready to push, but I cannot accept losing you completely.”

She nods and looks away. “Once he’s back, I won’t be able to sneak away. I won’t be able to just leave anymore.”

“Then we’ll have to get creative.”

Her eyebrow arches and once more, she looks back at him from over her shoulder—and this time, she feels a smile stretching across her lips as she wonders what he has in mind. She doesn’t ask; she just smiles and nods, and trusts. She knows that she can’t give him what he wants and she knows that he disagrees with the boundaries that she won’t risk breaking—yet, nonetheless, he’s willing to accept what she can give and accept it on her terms. Her cheeks flush slightly at the realization that for him, she’s enough.

_____

Her heart aches when she wakes up and realizes today she won’t be seeing him—and the ache only deepens when she realizes that she doesn’t know when the next time will be. It seems strange, in some ways, how much a part of her life he’s become in such a short time and she wonders how long it’ll last this way. Not long after she wakes, a maid comes in and helps her to dress, pulling her hair up and fitting in the heavy tiara—something no one’s bothered with for weeks. When she’s her hair and make-up are done, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and a sense of disappointment seeps in—she no longer looks like herself and she finds herself wishing that she could have been braver.   

She sighs, feeling another of flicker of disappointment as she descends the stairs and sees her step-daughter standing at the bottom, bright-eyed and smiling widely—yet another reminder of the life she’s been all too happy to avoid. Snow tosses herself forward, hugging Regina around the waist, completely unaware that her step-mother doesn’t hug her back. They get into the carriage that’s waiting outside for them and Regina barely hears Snow’s voice, prattling on about the beauty of the summer castle and what a good time she had there. Instead, her thoughts instead drift to Robin and she smiles faintly as she thinks of the afternoon they’d spent wading at the river bank—remembering how she felt in the moment—so light and serene, remembering how surprised she’d been when he’d splashed and how he’d laughed out, catching her hands as she attempted to splash back as they both toppled over into the water. And she couldn’t stop laughing, even ask he’d kissed her.  

It’s not until Snow screams that she realizes the carriage has stopped. Her brow furrows as she looks at Snow who is perched at the window, her eyes wide and her hands trembling, watching as the knight’s rush past their carriage. Regina eases her back into her seat and away from whatever scene is unfolding outside.

“I’m sure it’s…nothing,” she says, in spite of herself. “I’m going to see what this is all about. Stay here, okay?” She gives Snow’s hand a quick squeeze, her heartbeat quickening as she watches a shadowy figure pass the carriage. Outside, the knights have dismounted their horses and are gathered around a fallen tree lying in the road just a few feet ahead of them. Regina sighs, rolling her eyes as she looks around, searching for the hooded figure she’d seen a moment before, feeling an odd sense of both relief and disappointment when she doesn’t spot him.

She turns back to the carriage. “Snow, it was just…” Her voice halts and her heart leaps as she sees a man slipping into the carriage. “ _Snow_ …” She takes a few hurried steps forward, but before she reaches the carriage, a hand reaches out and pulls her behind it. Her heart races but before she can even process what’s happening to her, the man pulls back his hood and smiles a familiar smile.

“ _Robin_ ,” she breathes as a smile spreads across her lips. “What’s…”  

“I wanted to see you,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders as his smile deepens. She nods, exhaling a breath and glancing back toward the carriage, thinking momentarily of Snow. Reaching out, he tips her chin back toward him. “He won’t hurt her,” he assures her. “It’s all a rouse.”

“And he knows that?” Her eyes widen a little and she again looks back, wondering if she needs to be concerned about the man in the carriage with Snow and what his involvement in all of this means. “He knows about…us?”

“Well, no,” Robin murmurs, as his thumb rubs against her wrist. “He doesn’t know about you and me. To him this is just a typical heist.” He pauses for a moment, knowing better than most the complicated feelings she has for her step-daughter. “Little John’s size may be intimidating, but he’d never hurt a child.”

Nodding, she steps in, stretching her arms around him as she presses herself close. “I already miss you.”

“And I you,” he murmurs back as his arms fold around her, cupping the back of her head as he holds her close. “And I’m afraid we haven’t much time.” Gently, he pushes her back as the carriage door opens. “But I’m glad to have had a chance to see you, even if just for a few minutes.”     

“You really did this…just to see me?” He nods and her cheeks flush and she presses a hurried kiss to his cheek. “Here,” she says, pulling the tiara from her hair. “I’d hate for your reputation to be ruined.” He laughs softly as the carriage door slams and the knights all turn at the sound. He offers her a wink, leaning in and daringly pressing a kiss to her lips as the knights rush forward and then a moment later, he disappears into the woods.    

She stifles her smile as the knights surround her and she assures them that she’s fine—after all, the thief only made off with her tiara. They usher her back into the carriage where Snow sits teary-eyed, and she slips a reluctant arm around her step-daughter’s shoulders and wills herself not to laugh.  

The moment carries her through the rest of the day—through the dress fitting and Snow’s embellished re-telling of how their carriage was robbed by bandits to anyone and everyone who will listen to her, through the mundane preparations for the following night’s ball and the never-ending dinner she shares with Snow. When she retires early to her bed chambers, she’s still smiling, and its Robin’s hurried kiss she thinks of as she drifts toward sleep.   

She’s nearly asleep when she hears her bedroom door open and close—she’s awake just enough to be aware of the sound of footsteps coming toward her bed. Her heartbeat quickens when she realizes the familiar pace of the steps as her fingers curl around the blanket, pinning it down around herself as if that would stop what’s inevitably to come. She presses her eyes closed tighter—she’s not ready for this, but she never is—and the smell of bourbon unsettles her stomach and makes it churn.     

“You’re not really asleep,” he says in a loud whisper.

She doesn’t reply, but her eyes flutter open as tears flood them—and she hates herself for that. No matter how many times this happens, she knows there’s nothing she can do to stop it. She’s learned that fighting it is futile; after all, it’s one of the few duties as queen she’s actually expected to perform and there’s no recourse for her. It’s simply part of her position, a position she’s been told again and again was bestowed as an honor. Yet, no matter what, she can’t see it that way, and no matter what, she hates that it allows him to see her vulnerability.

She turns her head as he unbelts his pants and her teeth clench down on her bottom lip as he pulls back the covers and pushes up her nightdress—and through the rest, she just feels numb and again wishes she could have been braver.

_____

Leopold is known amongst the neighboring kingdoms for his lavish parties—huge feasts and good music, unending drinks and beautiful ornamental displays. The ball will last until sun-up and even then guests will linger. He makes his way around the room with Snow trailing on his heels, laughing and telling stories as his guests fawn over him and the precious princess, while Regina watches from a spot at the back of the ballroom. She stands there, unmoving in a dress that’s far too heavy, bored and disinterested by the scene, wondering why she’s even made to attend. She watches as guests laugh and dance, passing her without acknowledgement and viewing her as if she were no more than any of the other ornaments on display at the palace. Though as bored as she is, there’s a part of her that’s grateful not to be a part of it, grateful not have to smile and make small talk, grateful not to have to pretend. 

Her eyes are fixed on a couple dancing—she doesn’t know them, but there’s something sweet about the way they glide across the floor together, her arms linked around his neck and his hands clasped on her hips, their eyes locked as they move together. A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she watches them and her thoughts begin to drift…

“You are doing a fantastic job blending in with the wall.”

Her breath catches as she feels a hand press into the small of her back, her smile spreading as she spins around to find Robin standing behind her wearing a knight’s uniform. Her jaw drops and her eyes widen as a small smirk forms on his lips—she can’t believe that he’s there, standing with her in a crowded room, hiding in plain sight—and while individually they both blend into the background, she won’t risk them standing out together.

“There’s a fountain just outside in the courtyard,” she whispers as a bright smile twitches onto her lips. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”   

He smiles and nods, then disappears. She feels her heart flutter—and she’s vaguely aware that it’s the first feeling of emotion she’s felt since the previous night. Pushing those thoughts away, she slowly moves toward the courtyard where she finds him, standing behind the fountain and waiting for her out of sight. As soon as she rounds the fountain, she’s in his arms and he’s lifting her off the ground, spinning her around as he holds her tightly.

“How are you here?” She asks in a loud incredulous whisper when her again feet meet the floor. She looks him up and down, examining his uniform as more questions begin to swirl.

He grins. “I told you, we have to get creative.” He reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a key and holding it up in front of her. “It took a little finessing to explain why this key was important, but Little John was able to secure it and I now have easy way of entering through what I’ve discovered to be the laundry room.” He grins and rolls his shoulders. “And an extremely itchy coat.”  

She laughs and shakes her head, “I…I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” he says, his tone turning serious. “If you can’t come to me, I’ll come to you.” His eyes glimmer with a smile as his hand slides to the small of her back. “I told you, I’m not giving up on you.”     

Her cheeks flush and she doesn’t quite know what to say—she’s never had someone in her life like him. She presses herself close to him, linking her arms around his neck as her lips find his. She can feel him smile into her kiss as his fingers slide against her jaw, pushing into her and drawing her in deeper as he kisses her back.

His forehead rests on hers as they stand together, breathing heavily as they sway together. They stay like that for a few minutes, holding each other and slowly moving with the music that plays in the distance. She glances back toward the crowded ballroom just feet away and slowly pulls back as she thinks of how easy it would be for someone to catch them like this. Her fingers lace through his as she tugs him forward, glancing over her shoulder again, as she leads him through the doors at the other end of the courtyard. He doesn’t question it; he just follows and lets her lead him up the stone staircase and down the long corridor that leads to her chambers.

She smiles shyly as she closes them in and opens the French doors that lead to the balcony, letting in the warm summer air and the faint music into the room. She can feel his eyes on her as she stands on the balcony’s threshold and when she turns, she finds him sitting on the edge of her bed, smiling gently in her direction.

He holds out his hand to her, but she shakes her head, laughing at little as his brow creases. It’s lost on neither of them that she’s taken him up to her bedroom and though she hasn’t made her intent clear, she’s sure he can assume it. “I can’t…actually sit in this dress,” she tells with a sheepish grin. “If I do, I might crack a rib.”  

“Ah, I see,” he murmurs, chuckling softly as he stands. “Can I help you out of it?” Her eyebrows arch and this time, it’s his cheeks that flush. “I just mean…”

“However you mean it, yes.”

He comes closer and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth, grimacing when they touch the small gash from the night before. When her eyes meet his, his expression has changed—his eyes are no longer gazing easily, instead their full of concern. Reaching out, he tips her chin and examines the small, self-inflicted gash. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing…”  

“Did he hurt you?”

She swallows hard and takes a breath, then shakes her head. “No, I just bit down too hard…”

“You’re lying,” he says, as the back of his hand slides against her jaw.

“No…”

“I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I really did bite down…”

“But why?” He sighs and takes a breath, struggling to keep his voice even. But his eyes betray him, darkening as he comes to an understanding. “Regina, if he…”

“Please don’t make me say it out loud,” she murmurs as she looks away from him. “I just want there to be one thing in my life that he doesn’t touch.”  

She steps away from him and pulls the heavy tiara out of her hair, tossing it carelessly onto her dressing table. She does the same with her earrings, but fumbles with the clasp on her necklace. Her hands are trembling and her breath is shaky—this isn’t at all how she wanted this to go.

“Okay,” he says, stepping in behind her and unclasping the necklace before handing it to her, letting it pool in her palm. “I won’t make you talk about it if you don’t want to.” He drops a soft kiss onto the nape of her neck. “But if you want to, I’ll listen.” She only nods, staring into the looking glass and watching as his hands settle on her hips. “I love you,” he whispers before pressing his lips again to her neck. “If you change your mind, know that I’m here, okay?”

She nods, hating that the first time he’s said those words to her were tainted by what the king had done to her. Nonetheless, he said them and they replay again and again as he holds her and trails warm kisses along her neck and jaw until once more, she’s smiling.    

He smiles, too, as she turns in his arms and links her arms around his neck. “Will you help me out of this dress?” He nods and she turns, letting his hands work over the small buttons until the dress if finally loose around her. She smiles and looks back at him from over her shoulder. “The corset, too?” Again, he nods and drops a fleeting kiss to her shoulder before tugging at the ribbon, and finally, she’s able to exhale. “Thank you…” she murmurs, as she pulls the corset away and lets the dress fall off of her. She turns again and links her arms back around his neck, capturing his lips between hers. Her fingers slide through his hair and his hands slide against her back, slipping against the thin muslin slip that covers her.

For a brief moment, she considers stopping—considering that just downstairs is a ballroom full of people and her husband is amongst them—but she presses closer as her tongue swirls around his and her hands slip between them, her fingers working quickly over the buttons on his coat. Sliding her hands inside of it, she pushes it off of his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor.  

“Regina…” he murmurs, breathlessly as he pulls back to look at her. “Are you...”

“I’m sure.”

That’s all she needs to say before his lips crash back down onto hers and his hands begin to roam, pushing at the fabric of her underdress and tugging off his shirt. She inhales sharply as her head falls back and his lips slide to her neck as he kisses fervently, his hands groping over the muslin slip. She lets out a contented sigh as she enjoys the feeling of exploring hands. Smiling, she takes a few steps back, pulling him along with her until the back of her legs hit the bed; she breaks contact only long enough to edge back against the blanket.  He’s quick to join her, his lips dragging along her clavicle as his hand slides beneath the muslin, his palm coming to rest on her stomach.

She drags her fingers up and down his back as he withdraws from her, smiling gently as he reaches for the hem of her underdress. She watches as the fabric moves upward and she lifts her hips to allow him to pull it off of her. Her breath catches in her throat as she leans back on her elbows, watching as he takes her in and watching as he gets up onto his knees to unbelt his pants.

Swallowing hard, she continues to watch him undress; and in spite of herself, her hands begin to tremble as he kneels beside her on the bed. He leans in, kissing her bare stomach as his hand slips between her thighs; and once, more her breath catches, but this time, her entire body tenses.    

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, lifting his head as his hand slips over her bare hip. “We don’t have to…”

She nods, “I’m…I’m fine. It’s just…” She pulls back a little and takes a breath. “I’ve only ever been with Leopold and…that’s usually not a…pleasurable experience for me.” Sheepishly, she grins and looks away. “And by usually not…I mean it never is. It’s usually…quite painful.”  

“Oh,” he murmurs, stretching himself up to lie beside her, gently reaching out and tilting her chin back toward him. “Regina, if you don’t want to…”

“No,” she cuts in. “For the first time in my life, I actually want to. I just…” She trails off and her cheeks flush in embarrassment.     

“You’re nervous,” he supplies when her words fail her. She nods, watching as the back of his fingers comes to her cheek, stroking gently before reaching behind her and pulling the pin from her hair, letting her long locks fall around her shoulders. He just looks at her for a moment, laying there naked and vulnerable beside him, before a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Since your pleasure has never been a priority, perhaps we should make it one.” Her eyes widen and her heartbeat quickens—she doesn’t quite understand, but as his hand slides to the back of her neck and his lips press gently to her skin, she feels her beginning nerves to fade and she decides to trust him. “If something doesn’t feel good, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?” 

She nods as he leans back in for a long, languid kiss. She kisses him back and she feels herself relaxing as his hand sides down her arm. His fingers rub gently back and forth over her hip as his lips trail away from hers, focusing his attention on her neck. Slowly, he kisses down her throat, arching himself a bit as his lips trail lower. His tongue swirls around her nipple—and his eyes cast upward, catching her gaze and silently asking if he should continue. She nods and he smiles, his tongue and fingers working over her breasts, as she rolls onto her back, giving him more access to her.

His lips make their way down her stomach and he repositions himself between her legs, his eyes locking with hers as he parts her knees. He grins up at her and she swallows hard, releasing a ragged breath as he dots kisses along her inner thighs, his fingers dragging over her wet folds. Her breath hitches and he looks up, but again she nods and wills him further until his tongue is lapping back and forth through the slickness.

“Ohh, god…that feels…so good…” she breathes out, as her fingers grip the blanket. His tongue swirls around her clit, not quite touching it, but doing just enough to make her squirm. “Oh, god….Robin…” Her voice catches in her throat as it trails off and she starts to pant, muffled whimpers and sighs escaping her as his tongue flicks hard against her clit; and when he sucks her clit hard between his lips, her fingers tighten around the blanket and her face scrunches as she tries to stay quiet.    

“Let it go,” he tells as his lips loosen and rubs his free hand along her inner thigh.   

“Don’t stop…”

“I won’t,” he assures her as he returns his lips to her clit, this time inserting a finger into her, working it in and out as her hips begin to move, pushing forward and inviting him to continue as he slides in a second finger, and curls them inside of her.

“Oh…oh, there…right there….oh…” she hisses breathlessly. 

Her body tingles as his lips and fingers work their magic on her, making her feel things she didn’t know were possible. A low moan escapes her and she presses her head back against the bed as she feels her body tensing. Robin continues to suck and lick as his fingers move more quickly, sliding and curling until a stream of incoherent babbling escapes her. Ordinarily, she’d be embarrassed as she pushed herself closer, bucking against his face, but in that moment, she can’t bring herself to care. Again, she feels herself tensing and her muscles clench around his fingers—and then, her orgasm explodes, leaving her breathless as her knees collapse and her fingers unclench.

She swallows hard, panting as she tries to catch her breath. Lifting her head, she looks down watching Robin, still between her legs, licking and stroking lazily. She smiles sheepishly as he slowly kisses his way back up, capturing her lips as his hand brushes past her cheek and his fingers slip into her hair.

The kiss is long and unhurried, slow and sweet, allowing her time to recover. Her hands rub over his arm and her foot skims over his calf as they lay together. When he pulls away, her rests his forehead against hers pecks at her lips, stealing little kisses as her breathing returns to a normal pace.

“That was…” she begins as her cheeks flush, not really knowing what to say.

He chuckles softly and quickly pecks her lips. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it.” She blushes and looks away, but he tips her chin back toward him, smiling softly as he strokes his fingers over against her jaw. “Do you want to continue?” He dips in and kisses her again. “We don’t have to if you don’t…”

“I want to,” she’s quick to say as her foot slides up to his knee and her leg falls over his hip. His eyebrow arches and again, their eyes meet as she rolls onto her back, effortlessly pulling him with her. “I want to,” she says again, taking a deep breath as her arms come up around his shoulders. She smiles as his lips meet her neck, sucking and nibbling as he repositions himself over her. She closes her eyes, enjoying the tingling sensation his lips are causing on her skin, momentarily losing herself in him.

He pulls away and the loss of contact brings her back into the present. He’s hovering over her as the tip of his cock presses against her and almost instinctively, she draws up her knees, nodding as she opens her legs. He pushes in slowly, sinking into her little by little and allowing her time to adjust. For a brief moment, she can’t help but think how different he feels from what she’s used to—and then she pushes the thought away, wanting to focus only on them.

With a final push, he’s inside her fully and she watches as he takes a breath and his eyes close momentarily, a low groan escaping him as he stays still inside of her. His eyes flutter open as he takes another, shorter breath and looks down at her as a smile edges over his lips. “Are you okay?” He asks in a soft voice, as his fingers trail up and down her legs.

“I’m okay,” she tells him with a slight nod, enjoying the fullness of him inside of her.

“Okay,” he murmurs as his hips start to move slowly, gently rocking back and forth as his arms loop under her knees. “Wrap them around me,” he tells her. And tentatively she does, trusting that whatever he asks of her will be pleasurable for both of them. “There you go…”

His lips returns to her skin and his hips begin to move, and before she knows it, she’s completely lost it—lost in his movements and touches. Her lips settle on spot between his neck and shoulder, as his hands knead lightly at her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers, alternating with his lips. Her senses feel more acute—suddenly, everything feels more sensitive. Arching her back, her hips begin to move in rhythm with his and she finds herself moaning into the crook of his neck as he quickens their pace.

Her head tilts back and his lips find her neck, he thrusts harder, rocking in and out of her with increasingly shorter thrusts. She breathes out in satisfaction as she feels herself tensing again, muscles constricting around him until she’s coming. He continues his movements until he’s jerking inside of her and she feels an explosion of warmth deep within herself.

They stay together for a moment, sated and breathless, before he slips out of her and slides up to lay at her side. She etches closer to him and pulls the blanket up around them, cuddling into his side as she rests her head on his chest. He strokes his fingers up and down her arm and she presses occasional kisses against his bare chest, enjoying the feel of him beside her.

“I never knew it could be like that,” she tells him. “I’ve never…um…” she lifts her chin and her cheeks flush as his eyes meet hers. “… _finished_.”

“And you did that twice tonight,” he chuckles softly in reply before his voice turns a bit more serious. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Me too,” she murmurs quietly, cuddling back in as she hugs herself closer to him and his arm slips around her shoulders. A comfortable silence falls between them. Her thoughts begin to wander as a smile creeps over her lips as she remembers the way he’d smiled at her as she rounded the fountain, remembering how soft his hands were as he touched her and how willing he was to make her comfortable. She’s never had this with anyone, but then, she reasons, she’s never had a soul mate before either. “Did you mean it?” She asks in a hushed whisper as she tips her head up. “Earlier, did you mean what you said?”

He blinks a couple of times before a slow smile works its way over his lips. “You mean, when I very unceremoniously told you that I loved you?” She nods and catches her lips between her teeth. “Yes. I meant that. Though, I wish I could have a do-over and say it with a bit more…pomp.” He takes a breath. “But I do love you.”

Her breath catches in her chest—she wants to say it back, but for whatever reason when her lips part the words don’t come. Slowly exhaling a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth and she tries again. “Stay with me,” she says instead. “Stay until morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“The ball will go on until sun-up,” she tells him. “All of the servants will be occupied with lingering guests and Leopold will be far too drunk to…” she stops, again not wanting the king to intrude her thoughts. “This might be one of the only chances we have to be together…this way.”

“I don’t know about that,” he replies, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek as she nuzzles against him. “But I will gladly stay with you.”

She turns her face and her lips graze his, smiling as thinks of all of the possibilities the night might bring; and she’s so caught up the moment that she doesn’t see the shadow that looms in the doorway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after their night together, Robin and Regina part ways and worry their secret will be discovered; and, with the help of Tinker Bell, they find a way to connect, even when they can’t be together.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, as his fingers trail lightly along her arm, down from her shoulder to elbow with a slight swirl before moving back up. She smiles as her eyes flutter open and she presses a kiss to his bare chest, cuddling closer as his arm instinctively tightens around her. Their legs are tangled and their skin is warm against one another, and they’re in the exact position she last remembers. Her smile deepens as she remembers the previous night—his hands and lips on her skin as pleasure rippled through each of them until they were sated and content to just lay in the other’s arms.  “I’m glad that you woke up before sunrise, I was afraid I’d have to leave you before you woke…” 

“You could have woken me.” He chuckles softly as she tilts her head up to look at him. “At the very least, I expect a kiss goodbye.”

“At the very least,” he agrees, reaching out and stroking his fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ears. “Under ordinary circumstances, we’d be able to sleep in much later, perhaps even continue what we started the night before, and when we tired of that, I’d make you breakfast…”

“Ordinary circumstances,” she repeats slowly, as her bottom lip catches between her teeth and her jaw tightens a bit. “So, does that mean this is…something you do…often?” She asks, trying to sound casual and disinterested as lifts herself up off of his chest.

“It means that I’ve done this before, but usually under very different circumstances,” he says, as a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “But Regina….”

“I’m sorry,” she sighs before he can say anymore. “Never mind…I just…” Her voice trails off and she grimaces in embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have…”

“There’s no else,” he  interjects as he reaches out and stokes his fingers through her hair, tilting her chin back so that she’s again looking at him. “Anyone else is in the past. Now, it’s just you.”

She nods, taking a short breath and slowly exhaling it, reminding herself of where they are and what they’re doing. “I have no right to be jealous of hypothetical women,” she says, “Especially when...I’m the married one.”

“You’re married to a fool,” he says easily. “He’s an absolute fool for not appreciating you, for not loving you.” She feels a smile forming on her lips as her cheeks flush. “But I suppose his loss is my gain,” he tells her as he curls her hair between his fingers. “Besides, that little flicker of jealous was…kind of cute.” 

“I wasn’t,” she counters, rolling her eyes but grinning as he pulls her back down to him and hugs her close; instinctively, she cuddles back into his side, once more laying her head against his chest. “But I’m glad you think it was.”

He laughs softly and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You know, we have at least another hour before sun-up and I don’t think it’s going to take me an hour to find my pants.”  Laughing out, she tries to peer around him to the spot where he dropped them the night before, but he pulls her back him and hugs her tighter, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Nope. We have an hour to do that,” he says. “Right now, I just…want to hold you.”

“I like that plan.”  

“Good, because I don’t intend to let you go until I absolutely have to. I don’t know the next time we’ll be able to be together like this, so I want this to last as long as it can.” She peers up at him, an apology ready, but he leans in, dotting a series of quick kisses to her face until she’s laughing and squirming against him.  

They stay this way for the rest of their time together—and both agree that the hour passes too quickly. He dresses hastily, leaning in and kissing her as she stands at her wardrobe lacing up the front of her nightdress. He pulls her hands away from the ribbons, folding his fingers down around hers.

“Do you know the way?” She asks, pulling back before either of them is ready. He nods, leaning in and pecking her lips one last time before retreating into the castle’s tunnels. She holds her breath and goes to her balcony—waiting to see him appear again, praying that no one catches him on his way out.

She breathes out a sigh of relief as she sees him, riding away and disappearing into forest. She turns away from the balcony and climbs back into bed, running her hand over the pillow where his head had laid, smiling when she finds that it’s still warm.

“Well, well, looks like _someone_ had a good night.”

Regina sits up with a start and her eyes widen. “Were you _watching_ us?”

“No!” Tinker Bell laughs. “You made a wish, so… here I am!”

Regina blinks and her lips purse, “But I didn’t…say…anything…”

Tinker Bell nods as a soft smile forms on her lips. “You didn’t have to. I just…knew.” Reaching out, she takes Regina’s hand, giving it a hard squeeze. “And now I’m here to help.”

A smile stretches across Regina’s lips and she feels a slight fluttering her core as she remembers Robin’s words to her the other day and she finds herself nodding, “Well, then, we’ll just have to get creative,” she says.

____

She’s still swimming through his thoughts when he steps into the tavern, only barely noticing Little John standing behind the counter, wiping down the bar. It occurs to him that it’s odd for Little John to be not only awake at this hour, much less working, but he says nothing as he walks across the bar, heading for the stairs.

“Late night…”

It sounds like a question, but it’s not and slowly Robin turns and nods, turning in Little John’s direction. “I might say the same to you.” A smirk forms over his lips as he nods toward the bar. “A little early for work…”

“Well, I didn’t exactly…finish work last night.” He chuckles softly and again Robin starts toward the stairs. “I got distracted by a very lovely lady.” He pauses as Robin looks back, his smirk fading. “You know all about that, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Robin says, sure that it’s an innocent comment but nonetheless feeling defensive.

“Don’t you?” Little John asks, his eyes narrowing as he offers a knowing smirk. “Are you saying _the Queen_ didn’t give you that hickey?”  

Robin’s hand instinctively goes to his neck, his fingers touching on the spot of reddened skin where Regina’s lips had been. His jaw tightens and he feels heat rising to his cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on. You’re usually a better liar than this and…it’s _me_ ,” Little John says, tossing down the rag. “That heist the other day…you having me steal that key…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head when Robin’s expression doesn’t change. “That pretty girl who came in a few weeks ago, the one who looked so out of place but was looking at you all starry-eyed….that was her. That was the Queen. And that heist the other day, that wasn’t really a heist. It was about her.”

There’s a long pause and for a second, neither man looks away. Robin takes a long breath, slowly exhaling it; nonetheless, his shoulders tense and suddenly all he can think about is the gravity of what he and Regina are doing—in so many more ways than one, it’s not a harmless fling and he hates that he’s potentially put her in more danger than she’s already in by being careless with their secret. “I shouldn’t have involved you,” Robin says flatly, again turning back to the stairs.

But once more, Little John’s voice halts him.

“Were you with her? Last night, I mean. Is that where you were?” Again, there’s a long pause before Robin finally nods. Little John’s eyebrows jut up, “In the castle? With the king…right…there?”

“The king wasn’t _there_ ,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“No, I just meant…”

“But yes, we were in the castle. The king was…preoccupied with guests.” Robin takes a breath. “Again, you won’t be further involved in this.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to…bring her here? Where there aren’t any guards or overbearing husbands who command armies of combat-trained knights looming about?” Robin’s head tips to the side. “Wouldn’t it be easier to be here, where there are people to…look out for the two of you, make sure no one catches you…”

“Are you… _volunteering_ to be my _look-out_?”

“Look out…distraction…whatever you need. You know better than anyone how valuable another set of eyes and ears can be.” Little John shrugs his shoulders, “So, if you and the Queen…”

“Regina,” Robin interjects. “Her name is Regina.”   

A small smile forms on Little John’s lips. “You’re really hung up on this one, aren’t you?”

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” Robin says easily, his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And while I appreciate your offer, I’d much rather be caught sneaking out after spending a night with her than her get caught sneaking back in.”

“Well, should you ever need it—the offer stands.”

Robin just smiles and nods, as he goes up the stairs to his room—and his thoughts return to her.

____

“Regina, wasn’t last night just _fabulous_?” Snow says in a dreamy voice, sighing as smile forms over her lips as she drops her napkin onto her plate. “The music and the dancing…”

“It was,” Regina replies in a near whisper as a soft smile forms on her lips and her eyes meet her step-daughter’s—and for a brief moment, as she remember Robin’s hand grazing gently against the small of her back in the ballroom, her smile is sincere. But she can feel Leopold’s hard eyes come to focus on her and her heartbeat quickens.

“Was it?” He asks. “How can you be sure when you left so early?”

She feels a lump rising at the back of her throat and her mouth is suddenly dry and she wonders if he knows, if his knowledge of her whereabouts stems beyond a mere observation. “I…wasn’t feeling well,” she tells him, averting his eyes. “I’m sure that I wasn’t missed.”

Leopold only sighs disinterestedly before turning his attention back to his daughter, and Regina watches as they fall back into a conversation that needn’t involve her. But her heart continues to pound rapidly in her chest, the beat echoing in her ears, making it impossible to for her to hear the words they’re saying—though she supposes it doesn’t matter.

Lost in thought, she flinches as Leopold pushes roughly against the table and stands. For a brief moment, his eyes again rest up on her and again, she wonders if he somehow knows why she really left the ball early. Her body tenses and she holds her breath, unable to look up at him, worried that if she does, he’ll somehow know the secret she’s been keeping or at the very least he’ll be suspicious of it—and just like everything else that brings her happiness, he’ll take delight in ripping it away.

But it’s only a passing glance and he offers his hand to Snow, pulling his daughter up and twirling her around as they make their way out of the dining room; she hears Snow’s distant laughter as her heartbeat finally returns to a normal pace. She breathes out in relief—relieved that her secret is safe—and she leans back into her chair as her shoulders finally relax. Plucking a berry from her plate, she smiles, laughing softly as she remembers…

“You are playing with fire, my dear.”

She watches her father enter the dining room and pull out the chair beside her.  “Daddy, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, easily lying.

“I saw you leave last night, Regina,” he says in a hushed but hard voice. “You weren’t alone. And if I saw you, it’s not inconceivable that someone else did, too.”

“I hardly think anyone cared,” she replies with a sigh. “And I doubt that anyone noticed. Had one of the floral table arrangements disappeared, it’d have been more missed than me.”

“Regina…” 

“Daddy, I was bored and I had a headache. So, I went up…”

“Don’t lie to me, Regina,” he cuts in, his voice rising as he looks around to ensure that no one is in earshot. She swallows hard as her eyes shift up to meet his. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” He repeats incredulously. “I would love for it to not be what I think…because I think my daughter is playing a very dangerous game that could get her killed.”

“It’s not a game,” she replies meekly as her eyes fall away from his.

“What is wrong with you!?” Henry demands as he slams his hand against the table. “Do you understand…”

“I understand that for the first time in such a long time, I have someone in my life who loves me.”

“ _Loves you_?” Henry questions as his eyes fill with doubt. “My _god_ , Regina. You can’t be serious. You _can’t_ be that _naive_. You’re _the queen_! He’s _using_ you.” She swallows hard as tears begin to form at the realization her own father thinks that it’s naïve that someone would love her, that someone would find value in her beyond her station. “You honestly believe that…”

“That someone would love me?” She cuts in, her voice raising an octave as her anger seeps in, masking the disappointment and the hurt that she feels. “Is it so unimaginable that someone might love me? That someone might see more than a title and a tiara?”

“If _he_ finds out…”

“I know…”

“I don’t think you do.”

She shrugs her shoulders and her voice momentarily hitches in her throat. “I know that if the king finds out, I’ll be lucky if he kills me. And I know if...” 

“ _Regina_ ,” Henry interjects, this time his voice is softer and he reaches out and takes her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Your life isn’t worth...some affair.”

She nods and slowly pulls her hand back. “I don’t have a life.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” she says, pushing back from the table and rising on shaky legs. “Daddy, he makes me happy. Can’t that...be okay with you?” She sighs. “I won’t give him up. He’s all I have.” Taking a long breath, she slowly exhales it and wills back the tears that are welling in her eyes. “Is it safe to assume that you won’t tell?”

“Regina…”

“Are you going to tell Leopold that I’m having an affair?” She shrugs as her jaw tightens. “Is a simple question—yes or no—are you going to seal my fate?”

“I couldn’t…” he manages to say.

“So, my secret is safe with you?” Henry grimaces as he nods. “Good,” she breathes out as her shoulders relax. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend to.”

___

Tinker Bell looks around, clutching an envelope tightly between her fingers as she approaches the bar. She’s seen Robin before, but it was only once when his back was turned to her and it was dark, but she promised Regina she’d personally place it in Robin’s hands—and she won’t let her down. 

“A-hem,” she says, pulling herself up into one of the barstools, perching there and waiting for the man behind the counter to turn around. Her eyes narrow and she examines him. “You’re not Robin of Locksley…are you?”

“I am not,” the man chuckles, “My name’s John.”   

Tinker Bell’s lip catches between her teeth as she looks around, “Do you know where I might find him?”

“It just so happens I do,” Little John says. “He’s in the back…”

“Can you get him? I have something very important to give him.”

“I can just take…”

“Oh, no,” Tinker Bell says, pulling back the envelope. “I swore that I would give it to him directly.”

Little John’s eyes narrow, but he concedes and retreats into the back room where Robin is taking inventory. “Sorry to bother you,” he begins as Robin turns. “But…” He laughs and looks back over his shoulder toward the bar. “Can women be dwarves? Because there is a tiny little woman sitting at the bar…”

Robin’s eyebrow arches, “You interrupted me for… _that_?”

“Oh, I was just…curious. It just occurred to me.” Robin just blinks as Little John looks back over his shoulder, again laughing softly. “She looks like she’d fit in my pocket,” he says, before looking at Robin. “Anyway, she wants to see you.”

Robin’s lips part and his brow furrows. “I’m busy.”

“I tried to tell her, but she was very insistent…she has something for her.”

“The tiny little dwarf woman has something for me?” Robin asks, rolling his eyes. “Did she say what?”

“No, just that she promised to personally deliver it.” He shrugs, “She didn’t say much else.”

“Fine,” Robin says, tossing down his notebook and walking toward the bar with Little John on his heels. When he reaches the bar, his eyebrow arches when he sees a small woman in a glittery green dress sitting there and he chuckles softly—compared to this woman, Regina had blended in effortlessly.

“Are you Robin of Locksley?” She asks, in a chipper tone as she smiles hopefully, “Because if you are, I have something very important to give you.” She leans in and a in a squeaky whisper adds, “It’s from the Queen.”

His breath catches, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he accepts the envelope and quickly pulls out Regina’s note. His heart flutters at the sight of her loopy handwriting and his smile deepens as he reads her words, wishing that she were there to say them rather than alone on her balcony wondering if they’d reached him.

“Can I write back?”

“Write back?” Little John asks. “But the paper’s blank…”

Robin’s brow creases as he turns to Little John, but before he can reply, Tinker Bell chimes in. “Oh, well that’s because the letter’s enchanted.” She grins. “Only the soul mate of the writer can read the words.”

“Did you do that?” Little John asks as his eyes grow wide as Tinker Bell’s cheeks flush slightly.

“Soul mate?”

“Well, yes, I did,” Tinker Bell says to Little John before looking back to Robin. “And yes, you are. You’re her soul mate. She…didn’t tell you that?” Robin shakes his head as Tinker Bell continues, neither quite knowing if this should be awkward. “She was _so_ upset that night and _so_ lonely and…I gave her some pixie dust that would lead her to her true love, to the man whose soul she shares, the one she’s meant to love and the one who’s meant to love her.” She shrugs, “And it led her here, to you.”

“That…makes so much sense,” Robin says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the counter, remembering that night  she’d come into the tavern and how out of place yet hopeful she looked as they’d made small talk about fate and their mutual love of horses. He’d been so drawn to her that night and he couldn’t quite pin-point why, but as he got to know her, he’d found that he didn’t care why—he only cared that he did. Though, in the weeks they’d spent together, he often found himself wondering how he’d gotten so lucky.

“Ah, pixie dust! That’s it! You’re _not_ a dwarf! You’re a _fairy_!” Little John exclaims, smiling proudly as he looks between Robin and Tinker Bell, only to find their expressions serious. “Never mind, I’ll just…”

Tinker Bell laughs and Little John’s voice halts.

“To answer your question,” Tinker Bell begins, leaning in a bit toward Robin. “Yes, you can write her back.” A small grin forms on her lips. “She was hoping that you would.”

He disappears into the back room, leaving Tinker Bell and Little John to entertain one another. He closes the door and opens the note, smiling once more at the words, reading them again…

_I know that this situation we find ourselves in is complicated, but I sincerely hope that it’s worth the hassle that it’s caused you. I can’t stop thinking about last night—from your hand brushing against my back in the ballroom to way your lips felt against my skin. Waking up in your arms this morning was…indescribable. I’ve never felt this way—I’ve never felt as safe and content as I did laying in your arms, listening to the beat of your heart and feeling you breathe as you held me close. And I’ve certainly never felt so loved. I never thought I’d have this, and I’m so glad that I get to share it with you. I truly wish we could have had that breakfast, and then gotten back into bed and stayed there for the rest of the day—perhaps we can do that another time._

A smile warms his heart as he tucks the letter into his pocket and pulls out a blank sheet of parchment from his notebook. He hesitates for a moment, considering what he might say—and then his smile deepens as dips his pen into the inkwell and begins to write.


	5. Chapter 5

Regina’s lip catches between her teeth and she struggles not to smile as she folds up Robin’s note and tucks it into her pocket. Her heart flutters in anticipation as she makes her way into the dining room, hoping to slip in unnoticed—and for the most part she succeeds. Leopold glances only barely in her direction, more interested in the stack of parchment sitting beside his plate and Snow is staring out the window, watching as a bird dances along its ledge. But Henry’s eyes follow her movements and remain on her as she reaches for the serving spoon at the plate of fruit in the center of the table. She catches his gaze momentarily before looking away, not wanting Leopold to pick up on the tension between them.   

 “I’ve been invited into the village today,” Leopold says to no one in particular. “Some of the tenants have been raising horses—and one of their prized mares has given birth to a foal.”  

“Oooh,” Snow squeals as her eyes shift away from the window, widening with excitement. “Can I come, Daddy? Please?”

Leopold softens as he turns to his daughter, “I’m afraid you have your dance lessons this morning.” He offers the girl a wink, “Perhaps another time.” Regina watches as he takes a breath before turning his eyes back to her, as if the mere sight of her piques his annoyance. “The reason I am telling you this is that I’ve promised to bring the stable staff along with me—I’m sure they’d love to see the foal and the villagers tossed together a luncheon to celebrate the occasion.” He smiles gently. “The staff works so hard, they deserve a little fun.”   

“I’m sure they do,” Regina says, a grin twisting onto her lips as she stifles the urge to giggle—while a foal had been born, no one cared to invite the king. Robin had sent a letter in Leopold’s name, informing the villagers that the king would be visiting and a meal should be provided. Little John and Tinker Bell would be there to ensure the king stayed for the day—it was all an elaborate rouse to the allow them to get the king away from the castle for the day so that they could have some time together—and it was an added bonus that Leopold had been vain enough to invite the stable staff to attend, unintentionally giving them a place to be together without prying eyes.    

“The village is at the very end of the kingdom, so I’ll likely be gone all day,” Leopold says, turning his attention back to Snow. “So, remember, after your dance lesson you have a dress fitting. Madam…”

“Oh, really?” Snow asks, her brow furrowing. “I’d so much rather come along and meet the foal! I already have so many dresses.” 

“Ah yes, but this one is for your birthday ball,” Leopold says in a near sing-song voice. “You’ll want something new to celebrate the occasion!” Momentarily, Leopold glances away from Snow and almost immediately, his eyes harden. “Regina will supervise.” His brow furrows as he looks up and down Regina disapprovingly. “You’ll have to change. That dress is far, too casual for…anything official.”  

“I chose this dress for a reason,” she tells him, taking a quick breath, building her nerve to continue with the lie. “I need something that I can move easily in because I plan to spend the day with Rocinante. He’s been favoring one leg.” It’s only partially a lie, really—she did want to wear something comfortable, but not because her horse is lame. Snow glances in Regina’s direction and her eyes widen, full of concern for Rocinante—while her excuse won’t appeal to Leopold, she knew that it would appeal to Snow, and Leopold will deny Snow of nothing. “The stablemen have been working with him, but I want to see for myself how he’s doing.” She pauses. “Especially since no one will be tending to him today.”     

Her heart pounds in her chest as Leopold just stares at her, his jaw tensing at her refusal to do something other than that attend to his daughter. But Snow’s voice quickly interjects before he can say anything in reply and Regina feels her shoulders relax as Snow agrees that Regina should spend the time tending to her beloved horse. As expected, at his daughter’s request, Leopold concedes and looks away from Regina, turning his attention back to the details of Snow’s birthday party. A satisfied smirk forms over Regina’s lips as she jabs her fork into a blueberry, glad to be ignored for the remainder of breakfast. But Henry’s eyes remain fixed on her, hard and disapproving—they’ve been over this on more than one occasion and she doesn’t understand why he can’t simply be content to know that for the first time in years, she’s happy. 

Henry clears his throat in an effort to catch her gaze and she’s sure he’s pieced together that Leopold’s surprise invitation into the village isn’t quite what it seems to be, but she doesn’t care—she knows her secret is safe with him, even if he doesn’t agree and no matter how much effort he pours into trying to convince her to end the affair, there’s nothing he can actually do to stop it. Still, she chooses not to look his way and instead, she lets her thoughts drift to Robin and the day they’ll spend together, her anticipation building as the minutes pass.   

_____

Leopold’s carriage is barely out of the Palace’s gates and soft music playing in the ballroom when Regina slips out of the castle and makes her way toward the stables. She pulls open the door and the light pours into the nearly vacant stables—and Robin turns, smiling as he stands in Rocinante’s stall, petting his nose as he brushes him.

Regina laughs as Rocinante turns, nuzzling his nose against Robin’s neck, “He likes you.”

“Only because I brought him carrots.” 

“Well, that’s just great,” Regina laughs, her skirt sticking to her legs as she moves toward the stall. “Now I have to compete with him for your affection.”   

Robin reaches out takes her hand, pulling her into his side as his arm folds around her shoulders. “Just know that you will always be my favorite,” he teases as he presses a kiss to her hair. “Are we really alone for the afternoon?” He grins. “I couldn’t believe my luck to find the stables empty.”

Regina nods, “Leopold took the entire stable staff with him.”

Robin laughs out. “Oh, those poor villagers are going to hate him.”

“Such a shame,” Regina replies as a grin twists on to her lips.

“I almost feel bad for them.”

She shrugs and turns herself to face him, smiling as she links her arms around his neck. “According to Leopold, they’re absolutely delighted to have him for the day.”

“Is he really so vain?” Robin laughs as his hand settle on her hips. “Does he really think…”

“Yes,” Regina says with a definitive nod. “He really does think it.”

“And the princess?”  

“Snow is learning to waltz or…whatever dance young princesses are supposed to learn to do to…impress whomever is they’re supposed to impress.”

Robin’s eyebrow arches. “Don’t you know a thing or two the life of a young princess?”

“I was much more interested in spending my time in the stables,” she confesses quietly.

 

“Some things never change, I see.”  

She shakes her head. “I’d always manage to disappear as soon as my dance instructor arrived. My mother hated me for it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “It seems silly now, but there wasn’t much about my life that I could control and I felt so rebellious and independent by not learning to waltz like all the other princesses.”

“I was not as lucky.”

“Oh?”

“My mother insisted my brothers and I learn.” A grin stretches across his lips. “My mother told us that one day, we’d be glad to have learned how to dance, that we could use it to impress beautiful girls.”

“Was she right?”   

“Not until this moment.” He looks her up and down, his eyes lingering as they study her thin silk muslin dress. “What kind of shoes are you wearing?” Her brow creases—it wasn’t at all what she expected him to say, but nonetheless, she lifts her dress above her ankles. “Take them off.”  

“You want me to…take off my shoes.”

“Yes, it’ll be easier to dance that way.”   He grins. “Less to trip on.”   

“You’re seriously going to…make me waltz?” He only nods and she takes step back, reaching out and taking his hand to stabilize herself as she removes her lace-up boots—a tedious task, she’s quick to inform him.   

“I think you’ll like it,” he tells her plainly as she tosses the boots aside. He takes a step back, sliding his hand up her arm and then back down it, letting his fingers fold around her hand, leading her out into the open space in the center of the stables. In spite of her dislike of dancing, she can’t help but smile as his face turns serious and he takes a step back as his hand drops away from hers. He straightens his shoulders and takes a deep bow. 

“This is the part where you’re supposed to courtesy,” he whispers, as a hint of a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “If I am remembering correctly, you have to accept the invitation to dance.” His grin deepens. “Or at least that’s what my mother told my brothers and me to keep us from rushing in to get the whole thing over with.”

Regina giggles, thinking of Robin as a little boy, bowing hastily as he pulled his baffled dance partner into his arms, only wanting the dance to be over so that he could go outside and play. Nonetheless, her knees bend and her head bows, as she tries to curtsey gracefully—another skill she never quite mastered as a child.    

“Okay, so…give me your right hand,” he says, taking her hand and pulling her up against him so that they’re chest-to-chest. “Stand up straight and keep your knees loose.” She nods and his hand slides around her, his palm resting between her shoulder blades. “And your other hand goes over my shoulder.” Again, she nods and does as instructed, grinning as he looks down her arms, checking her form. “Good,” he says decisively. “But I think you should be a little closer.”

She blinks, her eyes shifting down to try and look between them. “I don’t think _air_ could even get between us.”

“Step on my feet…”    

“Do you have _that little faith_ in my ability?” Rolling her eyes, she grins. “And, just so you know, I use the term ability very loosely.” 

“It has nothing to do with ability,” he tells her easily. “Now, step up.” She sighs and does, and as soon as her feet are on his, his lips find her neck. “Not only will it be easier for you to feel the way you’re supposed to move,” he murmurs against her skin, “I can do this.” She laughs, letting out a shallow breath and she considers suggesting that they skip the dance altogether and focus their energy on something else. But before she can do that, he pulls his lips away from her. A quiet whimper escapes her and grin twists onto his lips as he straightens himself back into the proper position. “So, basically, we’re going to create a box. We’ll do two three-count steps to create a box. And that is why it’s called a box step,” he concludes, his blue eyes shining as he continues to hold her gaze. “Questions?” 

Regina blinks. “I…think it’s a good thing I’m standing on your feet.” Robin laughs and shakes his head as he takes step forward and then to the side, his right foot following the left. “Ooh, three steps. I get it now,” she tells him with a smirk. “You’re already a much better instructor than the stodgy old man my mother hired to teach me.” He kisses her cheek and continues to move until they’re back to the place they started. He steps forward again, starting the dance all over, this time moving faster until they’re practically gliding along the stable floor.

“We can also add little…touches.”      

“Touches? What, like, twirls and…twists and…other fancy things?”

“You could,” he nods. “But, that’s not what I had in mind.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats as he leans in and his lips drag slowly over her throat to her to her jaw. His tongue flicks over her earlobe. “Did you want to…try it for real?”  

“You mean…with my…feet on the floor?” She breathes out, finding it incredibly difficult to concentrate on her words, let alone dancing with his warm lips pressed to her skin. “O-kay,” she manages as he again withdraws from her, pulling them back into the proper stances.

He steps forward and she steps back—and it begins.

She’s clumsy on her feet, too often stepping forward instead of backward, going right instead of left, pulling her feet together when they’re supposed to pull apart. Robin chuckles softly, but he’s patient and continues on, never saying anything when she steps on his toes.  

“Are you ready?” He murmurs, his blue eyes flickering with something that looks like excitement.

“For wh—“ Her voice halts and she laughs out as he spins her away from him—had he not been holding so tightly to her hand, she’d surely had toppled over onto the hay bales at the back of the stable—and then, he pulls her back, pulling her tight against his chest. His palm rests on her cheek and his eyes are soft as he leans in and kisses her sweetly. Her heart flutters and her body relaxes in his arms, as his hand slips into her hair, cupping the back of her head as he draws her in deeper—though they’re no longer dancing, the room begins to spin and she feels herself growing weak in the knees.

Not before long, they’re laying back on the hay bales—she’s on her back with Robin hovering over her, his tongue gliding and twirling around hers as her fingers rub back and forth along the back of his neck. One of his hands is tangled in her hair and the other is on her hip, slowly edging up the skirt of her dress as her free hand works its way between them and tugs at the hem of his shirt. 

“Are you sure your step-daugther’s occupied?” He murmurs as his lips momentarily pull away from hers.

“All day,” she nods, licking her lips as her eyes focus on hers. “We have the whole day to…do whatever it is that we want to do.”

“I like that,” he grins. “I like having time with you,” he tells her, as hand trails from her hair back to her cheek, slowly caressing back and forth, “Not having to rush…”

“It is nice,” she replies, leaning in and pecking his lips once and then twice and then a third time. They both laugh as his lips come crashing back down onto hers. She draws her knee up and her skirt falls to her hip. Robin’s hand quickly slides beneath the fabric, rubbing over her thigh as he presses closer, kissing her harder.  

Dragging her hand up and down his chest, a few times, she reaches again for the hem of his shirt, this time tugging it free and sliding her hand beneath it, smiling into his kiss as her fingers come in contact with his skin, skimming slowly from his stomach to chest and then back again.

He sighs contently into her mouth and then slowly—almost reluctantly—pulls back.

“Wait…”

Her brow furrows as he pulls away from her, sitting up on the hay bales, as she stares at him in confusion and props herself up on her elbows. “Wh-what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he assures her, leaning back in to quickly peck lips. “Nothing’s wrong. I just…there’s something I want to talk to you about…something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Now?”

He nods, “Now.”

 “Okay,” she murmurs tentatively.

“The last time we were together,” he begins, taking a short breath and slowly exhaling it. “I got so caught up in what we were doing.” A coy grin edges onto his lips. “I’d spent weeks thinking about what it would be like to finally be with you, and then…I was and…you felt so good.” She feels her cheeks flush a bit as he continues. “And in that excitement, it didn’t occur to me that…” He stops, chuckling awkwardly. “We weren’t…safe about what we were doing.”

“Oh…” She blinks a couple of times, remembering how she’d been flooded with warmth as he came inside of her, bringing her to a second climax that evening. Her bottom lip catches between her lips, and this time, it’s her turn to chuckle awkwardly as she remembers how when it was done and they both breathing more regularly, he’d settled beside her and turned her chin toward him as they’d kissed lazily, their hands exploring one another. Slowly but surely, they’d grown more and more brazen until her fingers were wrapped around his shaft, stoking him hard again. “So, you’re worried that…”  

“We’re already risking a lot, Regina,” he says, a bit more seriously. “I don’t want to put you in a situation that puts you in even more danger than you’re already in, and if you get pregnant…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head. “So far, what we’re doing feels so manageable, despite the risk. I just don’t want us to get into something so deep we can’t get ourselves out.”  

“That’s…not something we have to worry about.” She nods and takes a breath. “Leopold has been pushing for an heir since we were married.” She pauses and tries to keep her voice even, not wanting emotion to get the best of her and not ready to tell him about the miscarriage she suffered only a few months into her marriage and how desperate she’d felt to never let that happen again…or how guilty she felt for her response to it. “I’ve become something of an expert at not getting pregnant.”

“How?” He asks, his brow furrowing as his eyes flood with concern. “Regina, I’ve seen the lengths some women have to go to in order to make sure…”

“It’s not like that.” 

“I just hate the thought of you hurting yourself.”  

“I’m not,” she promises, as a small smile forms on her lips. “Let’s just…call it magic.”

“Magic,” he repeats skeptically. “Because there are ways…”

“I know,” she interjects. “But, you…don’t have to worry about it. There’s not much of my life I get to control, but…but this is one thing I can control.” She pulls herself up onto her knees and shifts herself onto his lap. His hands settle on her hips and her arms stretch over his shoulder and her fingers slide up into his hair as she pulls him back to her. “Just trust me on this one, okay?”  

“Okay,” he says with a small smile and a nod as his hands rub over her back. “Now, onto _other_ things,” he says, arching his eyebrows has his fingers continue to slide up and down the back of her dress. She watches as his smile fades and his brow furrows, his fingers tracing down her spine, likely in search of buttons. He laughs a little, peering over her shoulder, “Like figuring out how to get you out of this dress.”  

Regina laughs and leans back at little, reaching for the ribbon at the front of her dress, just beneath her breasts. She twirls it between her fingers, waiting for his eyes to fall to the ribbon. She tugs at it and the front of the dress loosens. Robin pulls off his own shirt, then pulls pushes the dress from her shoulders. She pulls her arms through the sleeves as she gets up onto her knees, letting him slide the loose fabric over her hips and down her legs. 

She takes a breath as his eyes linger up and down her body, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as his hand finds the small of her back. He draws her in, pressing his lips to her stomach, kissing her skin and letting his lips trail up her body, as he pulls her back down to him. She lifts his chin with her fingers and leans in, sucking gently at his lips. She alternates between the top and bottom for a few minutes before sliding her tongue between his lips and letting her tongue swirl around his. It’s not long before he’s kissing her back as he fumbles with his pants.  

Slowly, he pulls her up, breaking their kiss. She’s already breathless as he guides her hips downward, as she gasps softly as he slips into her. Exhaling slowly, she sinks down until she’s sitting in his lap with him fully inside of her. For a moment, neither of them moves. His fingers kneed at her hips as her arms link around his shoulders as her lips return to his—and the finally, she begins to rock back and forth against him until they’re both screaming and writhing with pleasure.

When it’s done, she settles back on the hay bale beside him. His arm stretches around her shoulders and he pulls her legs over his lap before pulling a thin knit blanket around them. Her head rests on his shoulder and even if she wanted to, she can’t stop herself from smiling at the content feeling that consumes her. She’s unsure of how long they’re like that—it could be minutes or it could be hours—and she’s glad to be able they have the time to lose themselves for awhile.

“Hey,” she murmurs, as she drops a kiss onto his jaw. “You look…like you’re miles away.”

He smiles and runs his hand down her back beneath the blanket. “I’m just…thinking.”

“About what?”

He shrugs, “Nothing in particular. Just you and me…and this thing we’re doing.”

She lifts her head from his shoulder and her brow creases. “Are you…having regrets?”

He shakes his head, his fingers still trailing slowly up and down the length of her back. “No.”

“You’d tell me if…if it were?” 

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I would.”

She nods and cuddles back in, smiling faintly as his arms tighten around her. She’s not entirely sure that she believes him, but he’s never lied to her and she has no reason to think he’d keep something from her. “I know none of this is ideal and there are thousand things that I wish I could change, but…I’m happy.” She bites down her lip and takes a breath. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he says without hesitation. “I’ve never been as happy as I am when I’m with you.”

Before either can say anything else, there’s a clap of thunder and then suddenly the rain is pouring down, tapping against the rooftop. Robin reaches for his pants and then for Regina’s dress, a sly smile edging onto his lips as he pulls them on. Curiously, she pulls the dress over her head, tightening the ribbon as Robin reaches for her hand, giving it a gentle tug as he pulls her up from the hay bale and toward the stable door.

Shoving it open, he steps out into the open air, looking up at the falling rain. He spreads out his arms, smiling as he looks up at the sky—and again, she can’t help but smile as she stands at the stable’s threshold.

“Aren’t you going to join me?”  

She glances up at the sky, watching as the rain cascades down. “I’m sure I don’t need to inform you of this, but…it’s raining.”

“Obviously,” he laughs. “So I’ll ask again…aren’t you going to join me?”

This time, he straightens himself up and bows. She laughs to herself, shaking her head as she looks up once more at the sky. Then, she takes a deep breath and runs out into the rain, joining him as her knees bend into a courtesy. Smiling, he takes her hand as the other hand settles between her shoulder blades—and again, he begins to waltz, the rain pouring down around them.  

______

Her hair is wet and her dress is soaked through as she comes into the castle through a back entrance, still laughing and smiling and still able to feel his arms around her as they waltzed. She slips in unnoticed, retreating to her bedchamber and starting a fire. She stands there, warming her hands wanting nothing more than to lose herself in the memory of that afternoon.    

“A-hem,” comes an exaggerated voice that’s all too familiar and makes her smile fade as she spins around. “Don’t you know it’s rude to not acknowledge your guests?”

“You’re not a guest,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes as she turns back to the fire.

“You stood me up,” Rumplestiltskin spats. “You know better than that.”  

“I told you,” she says plainly. “I’m no longer interested in dark magic. I wanted to use it to bring back Daniel and that’s impossible. So, there’s no point in it.” She shivers as she pushes her hands closer to the open fire. “And I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

“Oh, no? And how’s that, dearie?” Rumple takes a few steps in, standing directly behind her. “Powerful? In charge? Protective?” She turns at the last one and her brow furrows. “Ooh, did I pique your interest with that last one?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

“No? Then, perhaps I should spell it out for you,” Rumple says, giggling manically as he takes a couple of steps toward her so that he’s standing practically toe-to-toe. “I know what you’ve been up to. I know about your little soul mate in the tavern, the one who spent the afternoon twirling in the rain with you.” He rubs his hand together. “The one you love, oh, so much.” She takes a breath, feeling her hands beginning to tremble, as once more, Rumple leans inward. “It’d be a shame if something were to…happen to him.” He nods, “It’d be a terrible shame if you were to lose love…yet again.”

“You wouldn’t…” she murmurs in barely audible voice as her jaw clenches and she balls her hands into fists.

“Ahh, ahh! There it is. There’s that fire I’m used to seeing.” A smile twitches onto his lips. “And no, _I_ wouldn’t hurt him, but… _the king_ might.” 

“No, you _can’t_. You _can’t_ tell him.”  

“Can’t I?” Again, he laughs out. “I suppose it’d be in your best interest not to stand me up again, to stay in my good graces…if you’re going to ask me for favors.” He takes one last step in and she swallows hard, feeling his warm breath on her lips. “Because one wrong turn and your world will come crashing down around you feet and that would be unfortunate for all of us.” Grinning, he pulls back. “Think about it, dearie—and I will see you tomorrow.”   

He says no more; instead, he just disappears in cloud of red smoke. Tears rush to Regina’s eyes and her heart clenches—she wouldn’t trust Rumplestiltskin to tell her the weather, let alone trust him with her secret…or with Robin’s life. And for the first time ever, she regrets going into the tavern that night and she wonders how she could have been so naive to believe they could keep their affair a secret. She’d been so afraid of Leopold finding out, yet she hadn’t thought of Rumplestiltskin—a man far more powerful and far more ruthless than the king.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Robin and Regina go riding together, Regina gets hurt and can’t return back to the castle, and ends up spending the night with Robin.

When she sees him, mounted on his horse and waiting for at a fork in the path—a usual meeting spot for them—she feels her chest tighten and her lungs deflate, hating that she’s put him in such a dangerous position and hating that she doesn’t see a way out—or at least one that won’t end in heartache. No matter what he says, she knows there’s no way he can be content with their arrangement as it is and she knows that he wants more than she’s able to give—and she wishes more than anything she had the courage to change her situation, to allow things to be different for them. 

It’s not a lack of want on her part—she wants the same thing he does, but no matter what, she can’t see a way out. And every time she allows herself to think that it might just work out for them—that perhaps they can learn to be content with what they can have, that perhaps even though their arrangement is far from perfect, it could be something long-lasting—something, or rather, someone is there to remind her of just how foolish those thoughts are.

She’s spent the last few days with Rumplestiltskin, making up for missed time and almost completely in control. He’d cackled in twisted delight when he discovered the anger within her, the thing that seemingly fueled her magic, had been rekindled. Her cheeks had flushed and tears welled in her eyes as he reminded her that no matter how happy she thought she was, it was all built on an illusion—a smile had twisted onto his lips as reminded—in vivid detail—her of all the ways her little love affair could end, none of which involved things she wanted to think about.

But nonetheless, when she spots him waiting for her atop his horse at the end of the path, she can’t help the smile that tugs onto her lips, and for the first time in days, she feels her shoulders relax.  

“I thought you might not come,” he calls out, his smile deepening as she nears. “You’ve been so vague in your notes.”

“Oh, I…I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize,” he says easily as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “I was just worried. But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

“Robin, there’s…something I need to tell you,” she begins, watching as his brow creases and his smile fades. “I…don’t know if we should...keep doing this.” The words are painful as they fall off of her lips and her chest constricts, hating the way that they sound and hating that she feels compelled to say them.

“What happened?”

She shakes her head as her cheeks flush—she doesn’t want to tell him. She doesn’t want to admit that she’s in far deeper than she realized, that her ‘dabbling in dark magic,’ as he’d once phrased it, was much more than just that, and that she’d used her own soul as a bargaining chip…and had lost the bet.    

“I…I’m sorry,” she murmurs, once more turning her eyes up to meet his. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything,” he tells her, reaching out and giving her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. “I’m in this quite willingly.” He pauses for a minute. “Does the…king know? Does he suspect that…”

“No,” she’s quick to say. “It’s not him.” She takes a breath and tries to keep her tears at bay. “It’s…Rumplestiltskin. He knows. He knows about us.”

“Oh…I thought…you’d ended things with him, that you were giving up on dark magic.”

She nods, “I tried. And I failed.”  

“So, you’ve been…” She nods and his voice halts as her cheeks flush deeper. “That explains why it felt like you were pulling away,” he murmurs. She can feel his eyes on her, but she can’t look at him—she’s far too embarrassed. “Was this your choice or…did he threaten you in some way?”

“He did,” she says in a hoarse whisper. “And you.”

Robin sighs and she looks up, watching as his eyes sink closed and he takes a breath, and she wonders what he’s thinking. “I was really hoping this was your choice,” he murmurs.

“Would it matter? Dark magic is…dark magic. It blackens your heart, regardless.”

“But magic is a part of who you are and I don’t believe there’s anything inherently dark about it, regardless of who you learn it from. Had you chosen to go back to Rumplestiltskin, it would have been your choice. I could have respected that.” Her eyes fall away from his and she’s surprised when he again reaches for her hand. “I only mean that I hate that there’s yet another person who feels entitled to control you, who feels that your life is theirs.”

“Robin, if you want to end…”  

“Don’t,” he interjects quickly, his voice forceful, yet soft. “Don’t even suggest that I want out of this.”

“If we feared what the king might do, Rumplestiltskin is…”

“Ten times more powerful and without the shreds of humanity the king supposedly has,” Robin finishes. “I know.”

“Then…”

“Then this is still worth it.”

“Robin…”  

“ _You_ are still worth it, Regina.” Finally, she looks back at him and watches as his smile returns. “After all, who just gives up on their soul mate because things get a little complicated?”

Her breath catches. “How did you…”

“Know about that?” He asks, a slight chuckle behind his words. “Not because you told me.” She rolls her eyes and arches an eyebrow as her own lopsided smile tugs onto her lips. “Tinker Bell told me,” he tells her. “She thought I knew, and…it just sort of slipped out.”

“Oh...”   

“I wish you’d have told me.”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Obligated,” he repeats, shaking his head. “I don’t feel obligated. You’re not some chore.”

She laughs a little as she looks up at him. “I know, it’s just…I’m asking a lot of you.”

“You’ve asked nothing of me,” he tells her. “I’ve gone along quite willingly.”

She sighs and shakes her head, nonetheless, smiling. “And as glad as I am for that, I can’t understand why.”

“Isn’t it obvious that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make you smile?”

Again, her cheeks flush—but this time, it isn’t with shameful embarrassment and he gives her hand another squeeze as they set off deeper into the forest and thoughts of Rumplestiltskin drifting away.

_____

They find themselves on a blanket alongside the river bank in a secluded little alcove at the river bend. There’s a light breeze rustling in the trees and the horses have settled, picking at a small grassy section. There’s open picnic basket on the blanket and a plate of all-but-forgotten pieces of cut up fruits and cheeses and crackers sit beside half-empty mugs of ale. She feels light and her head’s a bit fuzzy as she laughs. Robin’s laughing, too, as his foot rubs gently against her ankle.

“You know, I’ve never actually seen you do magic,” Robin says, leaning back on his elbows as his eyes narrow and a smile twists onto his lips.

“There’s not really much to see…” 

“But there’s something,” he counters.

Regina chews at her bottom lip. “You’re going to be disappointed.”

“Oh, come on,” he prods, pushing his foot up against her knee. “Do a magic trick for me.”

Pulling herself up, she laughs. “I can’t just…do it on command.”

“What do you need then?”

“Well,” she begins, straightening her shoulders. “I need to…clear my head and focus and…” She watches as he slides toward her, and moves around behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze. “And _that_ , isn’t quite what I meant.”   

“No?”

“No, because…when you do _that_ , I’m the exact opposite of focused.”

Leaning in, he pulls back her hair, brushing his lips against the nape of her neck. “No?” 

“No,” she murmurs, tilting her head to the side.

“So you think I should stop, then?”  

“No…” she says, offering him a little laugh. “But if there’s any hope of a magic trick, as you called it, then, you’d better.”

He laughs, too, and pulls back, settling himself beside her, drawing up his knees to mirror her position. “Okay, so you need to be focused. What else?”

“It usually comes from emotion—strong emotion,” she tells him, taking a short breath as she looks over at him. “Usually something like sadness or anger or…as I’ve recently learned, fear.”

“Oh…”

She nods, “And then, I have to concentrate on that, really delve into that feeling…”

Robin’s head falls down onto her shoulder as his arm slides around her back, rubbing gently over the thin muslin of her dress. “Does it have to be a negative emotion? Or is that just what you’ve experienced?”

“I…don’t know,” she admits quietly. “Even when I was a little girl, before Rumplestiltskin, it always happened when I was focused on something negative.” A smile edges onto her lips as she turns to him, pressing her lips to his forehead. “I could try…”

His eyebrow arches, “Anything I can do to help?”

“Just…stay where you are,” she tells him, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. A grin tugs at the corner his mouth and his hand continues to rub over her back and she thinks of those blissful weeks they spent together when the king was away, blissful weeks they spent falling in love. She thinks of his smiling eyes and easy demeanor, and the way he’s always true to his word, there when she needs him, never making her wait or wonder, and the way he simply accepts her. Exhaling the breath slowly, she stretches her arm out in front of herself and balls her hand into a fist, focusing on the feelings of affection and love, of happiness and security.    

Her fingers uncurl and she opens her eyes, staring hopefully at her palm. Robin’s hand continues rubbing her back—and just as she’s about to give up, she feels a warm tingling at her palm and the tiniest flicker of a flame. Robin’s head lifts from her shoulder and she hears his breath catch as the flame flickers and fans. Looking over at him, she smiles, her bottom lip catching between her teeth when she finds that he’s smiling, too.

“That’s…amazing,” he says in a nearly reverent whisper. “What does it…feel like?”

“It’s warm, kind of…prickly,” she says, looking back at the flame, watching as is grows. “Like, when your foot falls asleep.”

“It doesn’t burn you?” She shakes her head and his eyes widen a little bit. “That’s incredible and…quite handy.”

“It…usually doesn’t work very well.”

“No?”

Again, she shakes her head as a grin pulls across her lips, “Maybe you’re my lucky charm.” She closes her fingers down over her palm, extinguishing the flame as she leans in, capturing his lips between her. Sucking gently, she pushes forward and smiles against his mouth when his hands find her hips.

It’s not long before the sweet kiss turns more intense, and the skirt of her dress is bunched around her waist and her hand dips into his pants. His lips break away from hers, dragging down her throat as her head dips back. She lets of a shallow moan as his hand slides up her inner thigh.

“How long do we have?” He breathes out, as his lips brush across her clavicle.

“All day,” she says confidently, as he looks up at her, blinking in surprise. “The king is…detained.”

“Detained?” He repeats, his eyebrow arching as a coy grin creeps onto his lips. “What did you do?”

“I…may have put something in his morning tea.”      

“You poisoned him?”

“No,” she’s quick to say. “I just…gave him something that would keep him occupied…and attached to his chamber pot for the day.” 

It takes a moment for it to register, but when it does, he laughs out—not a soft, chuckle but a deep hearty laugh that rings out and has him practically falling into her as tears well in his eyes. She laughs, too, her arms folding around him and holding him as he leans in to her. She peppers kisses on his cheeks and lips as her fingers slide into his hair, and as his laugh beings to fade away, he returns the gesture, focusing his lips on a soft spot at the crook of her neck. She lays back, pulling him with her—and then, he withdraws.

“The other day, when we were in the stables,” he begins, “We were talking about…being safe.”

“I remember,” she says with a nod.

“Well, I did a bit of research…”

“Robin…”

“I trust that you know what you’re doing, but I also don’t think this should fall squarely on your shoulders.” She sighs as he pauses, reaching around her to pull a parchment from the basket. “Now, you wouldn’t tell me what you were doing exactly, only that it was magic…”

“Robin, I swear to you, it’s not dangerous and it works.”

“And I trust you when you say that it works,” he tells her as he settles back at your side. “But I’ve spent the last few days…inquiring about such methods and I’m not convinced that it’s completely safe.” He takes a breath as his hand slides around her waist. “Mixing potions in just the right measurements is a dangerous game.”

“Not if you do it correctly…”

“And you have to do it within…certain parameters, certain time-frames…am I right?” She sighs and nods, reminding herself that he’s only trying to look out for her and doesn’t know just how touchy this subject is for her—and he doesn’t know because she hasn’t told him. “Well you and I being together, this way, is becoming a bit of a regular thing…and when we’re together, you can’t guarantee…”

“I know,” she says quietly. “But so far…”

“So far,” he cuts in gently.     

“So, what’s in the envelope?”

“A…little gift,” he says, a slight chuckle behind his words. “Kind of.” Her brow furrows as she tips her head and he smiles almost shyly. “You’ll see,” he says, as he hands her the parchment envelope, watching as she looks at it inquisitively before dipping her fingers beneath the fold and pull out a small piece of fabric.

She looks at him curiously as she unfolds it, “This looks like a…tiny bonnet.”      

“Well, it…kind of is.”

She rests it on her index and middle fingers, studying it carefully. It’s soft and a little oily, and has silky ribbons hanging down from it. “Is this…?”

“A contraceptive, of sorts,” he tells her as his eyes meet his.

She bites down on her bottom lip, “So, it’s a little hat for your…”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” she says, offering a little giggle as she looks back the tiny garment on her fingers. “And when we’re together, it…”

“Stop things from…going places, or so I’m told.” She laughs a little as she looks back at him—his cheeks are flushed but, he’s wearing a little grin and looking at her with in a way that makes her head dizzy and her heart flutter. “We’re in this together, right?”

A grin tugs onto her lips a she nods, leaning in and brushing her lips against his. “We should…try it out,” she murmurs as her tongue slides against the seal of his lips, her grin deepening into a smile as his lips part, allowing her in. She needs his nod and hears him murmurs something too muffled to make out as he lays back and pulls her down with him.

______   

They’re all giggles as they get dressed and she can’t help the regret she feels when she notices that the sun is beginning to lower. She makes a half-hearted comment about getting back before someone notices she’s not there for dinner and Robin nods—she can see the disappointment in him despite his smile. He leans in, offering a soft good-bye kiss and it takes everything in her to push him back and muster a smile as she places her foot into the stirrup of Rocinante’s saddle.

But then her other foot catches on something sharp and she lets out a little cry as she feels a searing pain and then warmth of her blood. Robin’s eyes widen as his one arm finds her waist and the other slides beneath her knees. Tears well in her eyes and she her jaw clenches as Robin sets her onto the blanket.  

“Its deep,” he tells her, rubbing his hand from her ankle to her knee in an attempt to soothe her as he examines the gash. “I think it needs to be stitched,” he says, as she lets out a little whimper.  

“I…can’t explain this…I’m supposed to be…” her voice halts as the words catch in her throat and panic begins to set in as she begins to think of all the ways this could go wrong.

“I know…” he cuts in, again rubbing his hand against her leg in an effort to soothe her. “But you’d lose far too much blood if you tried to go back to the castle tonight.” Her eyes darken with fear as her heart beat quickens—she hadn’t even thought of that. She watches as he pulls off his shirt, ripping the arm and knotting it tightly around her foot. “This should slow the bleeding until we get back to the tavern.” He smiles gently, again stroking her soothingly. “We’re not far from it and I know someone who can fix you up.”  She nods and tries to smile as she links her arms around his neck and he scoops her up. “I’ll send someone for the horses when we get back,” he tells her as he starts on a path that leads away from the river in the opposite direction of the castle. “You’ll likely have to stay the night…”

“But…”   

“We’ll think of something in the morning,” he promises. Taking a breath, she nods and he presses a kiss to her hair as she rests her head on his shoulder and wills herself not to cry. “It’s going to be okay. _You’re_ going to be okay…”

He says it again and again until they reach the tavern a few minutes later. They enter through the back way and he sets her down on a chair in what looks like a little office. She looks around, taking long deep breaths as her jaw trembles from pain and worry. Robin disappears for a moment then returns with a large man who looks vaguely familiar to her—and by the way his mouth gapes, he recognizes her, too. Robin returns to her side as the man crouches down in front of her, lifting her foot and removing the bloodied makeshift bandage.   

“Ahh, that’s quite the nasty cut.”

“Can you stitch it?”

“Do you…know what you’re doing? I’m sorry, but I…”

Robin chuckles, “Little John’s had plenty of practice on me.”

“Oh…”

“You’ll be okay,” Robin says as he sits beside her, watching as little John gathers supplies, soon returning with a needle and some sort of thread and a large glass bottle.

“What’s that?”

“Liquor,” Little John says with a half smile. “It’ll hurt less if you’re wasted, uh, Your Majesty.”

“Wasted…you mean…drunk?”

Robin laughs a little and pulls the cork from the bottle, “Drink up, love.”  

After a few long sips Robin’s arms fold around her and he pulls her tight into the crook of his arm, nodding for Little John to begin. Regina’s lips press tightly together and Robin pulls her closer as Little John pokes the needle into her skin. She flinches as reaches for the growler, taking a long gulp as Robin presses a kiss into her hair, reminding her again and again that she’ll be alright.    

When it’s done, Little John rinses her foot, washing away the dried blood and she giggles—drunkenly unaware of what he’s doing. Robin picks her up, laughing as her head falls back and she offers Little John a slurred thank you, and carries her to his room, just above the tavern.

He sets her on the bed and she leans back, watching as he lights a few candles to illuminate the room. She looks around—it’s small and windowless, sparsely furnished, but cozy and comfortable. She watches as he sets a candle on the dresser, watching as it glows in a small looking-glass.

“You kept my tiara,” she giggles, turning her head to better see it. “The one I gave you when you robbed my carriage.”

“I did keep it,” he tells her as he reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a thick blanket that he rolls and slips beneath her ankle. He grins when she crinkles her noses and says something almost incomprehensible about the blanket being itchy. “Don’t move your foot, okay? You have to keep it elevated.”

She nods and settles back, yawning as her head hits his pillow. He slides into the bed beside her, rolling onto his side and draping his arm loosely around her. “Why?”

“Why do you need to keep your foot elevated?”

“No…why keep the tiara?”   

“Oh,” he murmurs. “I just…I like seeing it there. It reminds me of you.” She giggles and tries to cuddle in, but the task proves more difficult than it should be. She feels him chuckle gently and she’s only vaguely aware of the breeze that pushed though the windowless room, sending a slight shiver down her spine. He presses a kiss against her jaw as her eyes sink closed, as her head spins and drowsiness begins to seep in.

“Robin?”

“Mmhmm?”

“What are we going to do about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know yet,” he tells her. “Just sleep and we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

“Okay,” she murmurs. She’s quiet for a moment, but then, her voice breaks the silence yet again. “Robin?”

“Yes, love?”

“I love you,” she admits with a groggy yet content sigh.

“And I, you,” he tells her as he presses another kiss to her hair. She nods and smiles, letting the warmth of him envelope her and thoughts of tomorrow and the king and Rumplestiltskin drift as far away as they can be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending the night with Robin, an injured Regina goes back to the Castle; Leopold discovers that’s she’s been having an affair–and as always, Robin is there to comfort her.
> 
> Full disclosure: This chapter contains a heavily implied marital rape scene.

She grimaces before her eyes are even opened—there’s a throbbing at her temples and a pounding at the back of her head, the skin at the bottom of her foot is tender and tight. Her stomach churns with an uncomfortable mix of nausea and dread and she lets out a little whimper—everything hurts. Her eyes flutter open and the room is still dark, but she can feel Robin sleeping beside her. She tries to smile as she looks over at him and when she turns her head, their foreheads practically touch. She can feel his breath on her lips and his arm is draped over her stomach, his fingers touching the thin muslin of her dress. Tears well in her eyes as she releases a shaky breath, realizing they’ve spent the night together.

“You okay?” He murmurs as his hand rubs over her hip, as pecks blindly at her lips. Swallowing hard, she squeaks out her answer—an unconvincing yes that he doesn’t believe. Robin nuzzles closer and this time, his lips find her. “Does it hurt terribly?”

“It’s just…tight,” she murmurs, trying to breathe steadily. “And my head is pounding…”

“An unfortunate side effect of the gin you drank.”

“Robin…” she murmurs quietly. “I didn’t go back…”

“You were in no condition to.”

“Someone will have noticed…”

“I know.”

“What am…what am I going to say?” She asks, her breath catching her in her throat. “Whatever excuse I give…”

“Regina, you were hurt,” Robin insists. “You couldn’t go back.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “And even if you could have, I wouldn’t have let you. Someone needed to make sure you were cared for last night.”

In the darkness, she looks over at him. She can just barely see him, but it’s enough and for what she can’t see, she can feel and she knows that his eyes are soft and sincere. “I just…don’t know what I’m going to say when I go back.”

“Well,” he begins, cuddling her a bit closer, but careful not to move her. “It’s lucky for you that after you passed out before the sun even went down, I stayed up and came up with a plan.”

“You did?”

“I did,” he murmurs as his hand continues to rub over her hip. “And I think it’s a damn good one.” He pauses for a moment when she hisses at a sudden twinge of pain in her foot and his hand reaches above her, gently stroking through her hair. “Especially given that it allows enough time to make breakfast for you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he insists softly. “Besides, I think breakfast will help with that hangover.” She sighs and turned her head back, staring up at the darkened ceiling. “I wish you’d stay…”

“You know I can’t. It’ll be bad enough that I was out all night.”

“I know,” Robin murmurs, as he pulls away. She feels him get out of bed and lights the lamp, setting it on the floor beside the bed. It’s only then that she notices the blanket over her and the cloth wrapped around her foot—and though her memories of the previous night are fuzzy, she’s certain that neither was there when she fell asleep. Now that the room is lit, she looks around, noting the pitcher and basin on the floor next to the bed and a stack of cloths beside it. Her lip catches between her teeth and her brow furrows as his fingers gently touch to the cloth wrapped around her foot. She watches as he examines it and she realizes that he’s spent his entire night tending to her.

“Robin…”

He smiled softly, “How does it feel?”

“It hurts, but it’s not…”  

“Don’t lie to me,” he says with light laugh behind his words

“It hurts like hell,” she says as a frown pulls across her lips.

He grins, too, as he slides up the side of the bed and sits at her side. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, leaning in and kissing her softly. “Now, you have two options—come with me into the kitchen and keep me company while I cook, or try to get a little more sleep, and I’ll bring it up when it’s ready.”

“I don’t know that I’m _able_ to come with you,” she sighs, grimacing as she tries to lift her head from the pillow. “My head feels like an anvil is sitting on it.”

“You can stay here…”

“But I…want to come,” she tell him, pouting a little as he smiles in reply. Shaking his head, he gets up and pulls back the blanket. She manages to pull herself up a little and his arm slips around her back and the other slips beneath her knees. Her head falls to his shoulder as he lifts her—its then, that she thinks about telling him how she feels, telling him that she loves him, but the words catch in her throat and come out as a whimper.

When they reach the small kitchen at the back of the tavern, Robin settles her in a chair and helps her to prop up her foot on another. She watches as he pours water from a pitcher into a pot, and hangs it on a hook underneath the hearth, then grabs as a basket and disappears into the little garden. She smiles a little as she watches him fill it, watching him go about what seems like a morning routine. Her heart flutters and her smile fades as she watches the sky turning lighter and is reminded of what the new day will bring. Her stomach flips and her chest feels tight as she swallows and tries to push away the thought, wanting desperately to ignore her reality for just a little bit longer.

“You know,” he begins as he reenters the room, grinning up at her as he holds up an egg. “You could stay longer…”

“You know I can’t.” He sighs and nods, then sets the basket onto the counter top. “But you know that I want to…”

“I do,” he tells her, as grabs a few bowls and begins to unload the basket. “I suppose then, I should fill you in on the plan…”

“That’d be helpful,” she murmurs back regretfully, wishing more than anything she could stay with him and that they didn’t have to have this conversation. “I can’t get in. It’s locked. And even if I could…I mean…you have that key…” She blinks and looks up at him, watching as he tears the leaves from a bunch of sprigs and finding that it’s difficult to focus with her head feeling so heavy and her temples throbbing. “I can’t just…appear in my room. By now, everyone knows I wasn’t there. I didn’t come down for dinner and even though there’s a chance that Leopold wouldn’t have noticed, Snow certainly would have. And she would have brought it to everyone’s attention.” Regina shrugs. “What are we going to do? Knock on the front door?”

“Well, that’s basically the plan.”

“What?” She blinks. “That’s…a horrible plan.”

“It’s not like the king will personally answer,” Robin says, looking back at her as he lights a fire at the hearth and then drops the leave into the pot. “And even if he did, it’s not like he’d recognize me. He has no idea who I am or what we are. For all he knows, I am a good subject who helped an injured woman whom I found while riding.”

“And suppose he—or someone else—asks you why you didn’t bring me back?”

“Well,” Robin begins as he cracks the eggs on a skillet and sets it on the brick shelf just above the flame. “Then we tell him the truth—that it would have been far too dangerous, that you’d have been too weak from loss of blood.” She considers it for a moment, sighing as she looks down at her hands in her lap. “I considered having Little John take you, but the Leopold might recognize him and connect the dots.” Regina looks up and grimaces, hating the idea of Robin putting himself before the king and putting him in a situation that puts him in even greater danger. “I need to see for myself that he...believes the story we tell him. I just…I need to know that you’re okay.”

At that she looks up, watching as he prods the cooking eggs and the smell of peppermint begins wafting through the air. Her heart clenches and again she wants to tell him, but somehow, telling him just seems unfair. She continues to watch as tears well in her eyes. She watches as he strains the tea and hands her a mug, murmuring that the peppermint will help with her head ache. He kisses her cheek, then returns to the counter, and she watches as he plates the eggs and cuts two chunks of bread, smearing on some sort of jam. As he moves around the tiny kitchen, he tells her about the peppers he’s picked to mix with a little bit of aloe. He gestures to a potted plant and her eyes follow his hands as tells her about an ointment he can mix up to help with the pain and tenderness for a few days.  She nods and tries to muster a smile, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease, an ease that she could never have—and suddenly, it’s painful clear to her that she could never truly fit into his world.

______

They’d ridden Rocinante to the edge of the woods, stopping when castle came fully into view. They’d lingered there for a moment and Robin’s hand gave hers a reassuring squeeze. There was a part of her that had wanted to tell him to turn around, that this was a mistake, that they should go back, but she knew that that wasn’t an option. So instead, she’d told him that they should get this part over with. He’d nodded in reluctant agreement and pressed a kiss to her forehead before urging Rocinante forward.

She watches the castle grow larger as they approach and her heart beats faster with every step the horse takes. When they’re near postern gate, entering onto the official castle grounds, her stomach beings to churn and it takes everything in her not to let tears rush into her eyes. She feels herself beginning to tense and Robin’s arm tightens around her waist, holding her close although he shouldn’t.

“Ready, love?”

“No,” she murmurs as they continue on toward the forebuilding and when they reach it, Robin hops down from Rocinante and offers Regina his hand, helping her down and helping her to stabilize herself on one foot. She leans on him as they hobble forward, as they step into through the outer door into an enclave that protects its entrance. “You don’t have to…”

“I just need to know that you get in okay and that…he believes you,” he whispers, rubbing his hand between her shoulder blades as her fingers clench around the hand that holds hers.

“You should do most of the talking then,” she says in a hushed voice.

He nods and reaches for the knocker—a massive iron thing bearing Leopold’s crest—but before he can rasp it against the door, the heavy door swings open and a knight stands before them with a spear. Regina swallows hard, but recognition flickers in his eyes. “Your Majesty,” he breathes out in surprise as his eyes widen.

Regina nods and he steps aside, clearing a way for her and Robin to enter into the castle. The knight turns to her and she can feel his curious eyes on her, but before anyone can say anything, there’s a clattering on the stairs and then Snow is rushing forward, long curls flying behind her.

“Regina!” She exclaims as she bounds toward her, crashing into her side and then pulling back when Regina lets out a cry. Robin’s hand stabilizes her and from the corner of her eye, she sees the knight glance at his hand on her waist. “Oh, Regina I was so worried!”

“I’m…okay,” she hears herself say, swallowing hard as her heart continues to pound in her chest. “I just…hurt my foot.” She lifts her skirt just enough to show her bandaged foot. Snow’s eyes widen as she looks back up at Regina. “This man helped me.”

She watches as Snow’s eyes turn to Robin and she smiles thankfully. “You’re like her own personal hero.”

Robin chuckles a bit and Regina feels a small smile tug onto her lips. “Yes, something like that.”

“Well, my father would love to thank you personally…”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Robin begins as knot in Regina’s stomach tightens. “It was nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t! She might have _died_ out in the woods had you not come to her rescue!”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Regina murmurs, grimacing as Snow reaches out and takes both their hands in hers and pulls them in the direction of the dining hall. “Really, Snow, this isn’t necessary,” she says, swallowing the lump forming

“Actually,” Robin begins. “I think I’d like to see the king.”

Regina’s eyes widen a bit as she glances back at him and he gives her a quick wink.

“And I _know_ that he would _love_ to see you.”

They follow Snow into the dining hall, where Leopold is sitting. A footman is serving him from a platter. She looks at the table, and the mounds of food she knows will be wasted and she feels embarrassed—though that feeling is quickly replaced by something else when Leopold looks up at her. Snow kisses his cheek, then takes a seat beside him, chattering on about Regina’s injury and the good man who cared for her over night.

“Is that so?” Leopold asks as his eyes shift from Regina to Robin.  

Regina barely manages a nod, but Robin steps forward. “It is.” She takes a breath, noting that he didn’t use a formal address that someone of his status would use when address someone of royalty. “The queen was badly injured near my tavern. One of my bartenders—and a good friend who has experience with this sort of thing—was able to sew up the wound, but she was in no state to travel.”

“No,” Leopold says as his brow furrows. “I don’t imagine that she was.”

“It wasn’t even until this morning we realized her identity—she was just in so much pain.”

Leopold nods, glancing quickly at Regina before turning his attention back to Robin. “Well, I am sorry for that—I hope she wasn’t too much trouble for you and your friend.”

“She was none at all,” Robin says in an earnest voice. “It was a pleasure to serve my queen.”

A grin pulls at Leopold’s lips—clearly, he’s misunderstood Robin’s intent, but he stands and offers Robin his hand. She watches as Robin shakes it, glancing back at her as Leopold turns to footman who’d been serving him and asks for him to go and fetch a maid to take Regina back up to her room.    

Her shoulders relax as the footmen leaves and Leopold offers Robin some sort of reward. He tries to decline, but Leopold insists and grasps his hand, looking at him with a sort of benevolence in which he’s never show to her. Leopold leads him out of the room, and Robin’s gaze catches hers for a moment, and he offers her a quick wink as Leopold makes some sort of comment about showing appreciation for good deeds.

A moment later the footman appears with her maid, who helps her up the stairs—and in the distance, she can hear Leopold laughing and she breathes a sigh of relief; though, it’s not until she’s in her room, leaning against the window frame and watching as he walks toward the forest that she allows herself to relax, knowing that he—and their secret—is safe.

_____  

Up until this point, it’s been a busy night at the tavern, and for the most part, Robin’s been grateful for it. It’s offered him a distraction, something to keep him from worrying and to keep him from remembering just how tired he is—and for a few long moments, it had worked. But the crowd was beginning to thin and though he knew another rush was soon to come, his thoughts immediately began to drift to her as he leaned his back against the counter and took a deep breath, letting his eyes close for just a second.

“I noticed you and Regina leaving this morning,” Little John says as he rests his elbows on the counter as he leans beside Robin. “So, she stayed the night with you.”

“You’re utterly brilliant,” Robin murmurs, opening his eyes as he blinks at Little John. “You should really lend your services to the Sherriff.”  

“I was just surprised to see her in the morning.” A coy smile twists onto his lips as Robin yawns. “Late night, eh?”

“What are you implying?”

“Only  that a girl you’re crazy about stayed over, and now…you can barely keep your eyes open. Seems like someone didn’t get very much sleep last night.”  

Robin rolls his eyes as a grin forms over Little John’s lips. “You know she just…she does this thing that just…drives me crazy.”

“Eh?” 

“Yeah—it’s just so hot when she’s lucid and able to give consent.”

Little John sighs, “That’s not what I…”

“She was hurt—badly. You know that as well as anyone. Yes, I was up all night because she was in pain and I needed to change the dressing on her foot and keep it clean and keep her calm. It was a blessing that that gin knocked her out for as long as it did.”

“I’m sorry—really,” Little John insists. “I wasn’t trying to…”

“I know your weren’t,” Robin murmurs, turning back to the counter as a man approaches and asks for a mug of ale.

“Uh, Robin…”  

“Honestly, its fine,” he murmurs, as Little John nudges his arm. “I’m just…overly tired.”

“No, it’s not that,” Little John says as Robin looks at him. “I think we have a visitor.

Robin turns and follows Little John’s gaze to the door, watching as a stout, well-dressed man stepping cautiously into the tavern. He recognizes him instantly and his stomach drops as the worry he’s been trying to ignore comes rushing forward.

He’s never met Regina’s father before—he’d only barely seen him once across a crowded ball room, but the resemblance between him and his daughter is striking—they have the same cheekbones and the same deep brown eyes, and the way he looks nervously around the tavern as he fumbles with his hands reminds him so much of Regina on that fateful night she dared to step inside the tavern.

Robin feels his heart beat beginning to quicken as he wonders what Regina’s father is doing standing there, in a dark little tavern far from home. He slides the mug of ale toward the waiting patron and quickly rounds the bar. Their eyes meet and the older man’s eyes narrow as Robin nods to him and he takes him in.

“Are you Robin of Locksley? The man who owns this tavern?”  

“I am, Sir,” Robin says with a nod. “Is…is she okay?”

He offers a curt little nod in reply and squares his shoulders, “She’s spent the day resting.”

“That’s good,” Robin says as a small smile edges onto his lips “Is she in horrible pain?”

“She doesn’t seem it.”

“Good…” Robin nods as he exhales a breath of relief. “And the king…”

“Believed the little tale she spun.” Robin can feel his eyes moving over him, taking him in and sizing him up. “So, you’re the man who’s been…” he voice trails off as he grimaces slightly, “…having an affair with my daughter.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it that, but—yes, that’s me.”

“You wouldn’t call it an affair?” He asks, his eyebrows arching.  “What, then, would you call it?”

“Complicated,” Robin says as a soft and smile stretches over his lips, reminded of a similar conversation with Regina a few weeks before. “I’d also call it being in love with her.”

“Hm,” Henry grunts, narrowing his eyes. “If you love her—as you say—you wouldn’t be putting her in this situation.”

Robin sighs and motions toward the bar. “Can I offer you a drink? An ale or a cider?”

“No. This isn’t a social visit.”

“Then maybe you’ll have a seat? I…think, perhaps, this is a conversation for a slightly more intimate setting.”

At that, Henry nods and follows Robin to a table at the back of the tavern, away from the crowd. Robin takes a breath, not really sure what to say or where to even begin, but assuming that won’t be left to him and assuming that Henry has a purpose. He doesn’t have to wait long before Henry’s eyes narrow, “Is it safe to assume that you’re the _good Samaritan_ who cared for her last night?”

“I am.”

“And is it correct to assume she was with you when she got hurt?”

“She was.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, “She should have been in a position to get hurt.”

“It was an accident. Her foot slid over a…”

“She shouldn’t have been where she was. She shouldn’t have been with you. She knows better than to…”

“Please don’t do that,” Robin says, taking a short breath. “Please don’t blame her for this.”

Henry tips his head. “I won’t coddle her.”  

“I’m not asking you to,” Robin replies. “I am simply asking you to empathize.”

“I assure you, I am plenty empathetic; however, I am also a realist.” Henry sighs. “This affair you’re having—regardless of love—is only going to hurt her.”

“I disagree.”

“I thought you might,” Henry says with a sigh, shaking his head as he looks at Robin. “Is it safe to assume that your relationship with my daughter isn’t…” He swallows hard. “…chaste?”

“We’re being careful.”

“Mm, I don’t doubt that you are, but what happens if you find yourselves in a situation that you can’t get out of.”

“Then, we’ll deal with it then.” 

Henry nods. “And what happens when you realize that you want more than she’s able to give.”

“That won’t happen,” Robin says, his voice full of conviction and belief.

“You say that now, but what happens when you realize a little fling isn’t enough for you. Suppose you grow tired of sneaking around and stolen moments; suppose you realize one day that you want a wife and children.”

“I already want those things,” Robin admits quietly. “I would love nothing more than to build a life with Regina. I’d love to whisk her away—somewhere far from here, somewhere she couldn’t be recognized—and marry her and have children and…” 

“That’s impossible.”  

“I know,” Robin says with a nod. “I am very aware of that. But I am willing to give up all of that—that life I dream of—if it means that I can be with her.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Of course I want more than sneaking around and stolen moments, but right now, that’s all she’s able to give. One day, that might change, but I am well aware that it might not—that this might be all it can ever be.” 

“And you’re…okay with that? You’re content…”

“No,” Robin cuts in. “But I can accept it, so long as I have her.”

“But that’s just it,” Henry counters, his voice rising. “You don’t have her. You’ll never have her. She’s a married woman. She took vows. She…”

“You make it seem as though she had a choice.” He watches as Henry’s eyes darken with guilt. “Regina never asked for the life that she has. And you can’t fault her for wanting to choose for herself.”

“She has a _duty_!”

“Why? Why is it her _duty_?” Robin asked, “Why is she _obliged_ to be anything she doesn’t want to be.”

“Her mother and I only want her happiness.” Henry’s voice drops and his eyes fall away from Robin’s. “So many girls would have been thrilled to be queen.”

“But not _her_ ,” Robin counters. “She was not thrilled. She was terrified.” He swallows hard, “And she isn’t happy.”

“She just needs to learn to accept…”

“No,” Robin interjects. “She doesn’t have to accept anything. She shouldn’t be content in a marriage where her husband treats her no different from any of his other beautiful possessions. She shouldn’t be content to be ignored and used and treated like she doesn’t matter. Because she does matter and deserves better.” Henry’s eyes slowly shift back to Robin’s, and Robin’s voice softens. “She deserves to smile and laugh, to feel safe and loved, and she deserves to be with someone who sees her for who she is, someone who respects her and treats her like a person…” Momentarily his voice trails off and a smile stretches across her lips. “…someone who won’t give up on her, just because the situation they find themselves in is less than ideal.”  

“And, you think that’s you.”

“Aren’t moments of happiness better than a lifetime of sadness?”  

Henry swallows. “Does she…really laugh when she’s with you?” Robin nods, his thoughts swirling back to the afternoon they’d danced in the rain, and his smile deepens. “I…don’t remember the last time I heard her laugh.”

“I know this is dangerous and I know we’ve made some careless mistakes. I agree that what happened last night shouldn’t have happened, but I won’t ever agree that what we’re doing is wrong.”

“I came here tonight to convince you to end the affair.”

“I assumed,” Robin replies. “But you understand that I won’t.”

Henry nods and a reluctant smile forms over his lips. “Please be careful with her. She’s…precious to me. And if anything were to happen to her, I don’t know that I…I could go on.”

“Well, it appears we’ve found our common ground.” 

They continue to talk just a little longer and then Henry leaves, wanting to get back before sundown. Robin watches him go, watching as he disappears in the direction of the forest and soon, a feeling of dread washes over him. His stomach churns and there’s a stabbing at his heart, and suddenly, he can’t stop himself from worrying. He takes a breath and tries to rationalize with himself—telling himself that she’s okay, that her father had even confirmed it, that king had believed them, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is about to go horribly wrong.

_____

Her maid is with her, changing he bandage on her foot, and she tries her best not to flinch when the maid rubs on some of the balm that Robin mixed for her. She smiles a little as he mixed it, remembering the way he’d smiled at her and told her this was a little of his own magic.

She lays back and closes her eyes, barely aware of the door opening and closing, until the maid’s fingers stop moving and there’s a shifting on the bed. She blinks open to see Leopold standing there and her heart begins to pound as he instructs the maid to leave them.

Her mouth goes dry as maid follows the instruction, closing the door behind herself and leaving the king and queen alone.

“Why are you here?”

“Don’t you know, Regina?”  

She blinks—there’s only one reason he ever comes to her, but even those time—as horrible as they are—feel different. He usually comes to her late at night and though the visits were frequent in that first year or so, they’ve since waned despite his want of another heir. But he never looks angry, only disinterested as if fulfilling some sort of dutiful obligation to his position or to his people. But now, he’s looking at her with hard eyes and a clenched jaw; his nostrils flare and his tone is icy.

“You thought you’d get away with it,” he tells her, a cool laugh behind his words. “You thought you were being so sly.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she manages to say.

“Oh no? Not a clue?” She swallows hard and does her best to hold his gaze. “So, you’ve no idea of the little tryst you’ve been having?” Her lips purse as her heart beats faster. “Then it won’t matter to you that it’s…been put to an end.” Her eyes widen a little as Leopold takes a step forward. “And it won’t matter to you that your lover hangs in the gallows as we speak.”

“No,” she gasps as tears flood her yes. “No, no, no…you didn’t. You couldn’t have. You…” She shakes her head as she loses her voice and her chest clenches as the tears stream down her cheeks. “No…”

“I know you were with him last night,” he says coolly as she sobs, brings her hand up over her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. “Don’t deny it, Regina. I saw the way he looked at you this morning.” Her chest tightens and she squeaks out something incomprehensible. “Did you really think I wouldn’t catch on?”

“I just…I…”

“You just what, Regina?” Leopold asks, his voice rising above her cries. “You love him? You think he actually loves you?” She looks up, and though she can’t quite see can’t see him through her tears, she feels herself nodding and knows that his eyes are hardening because while he certainly never loved her, he loved his things and his status, his position and notion that he deserved loyalty. “I don’t know what’s worse—the thought that my queen would betray me in this way or one of my knights.”

That last word takes a moment to registers and she swallows hard, blinking the tears from her eyes—it wasn’t Robin he’d suspected. Her eyes widen as the realization sets in that an innocent man has been killed—killed because of her and her stomach churns as guilt washes over her.

“He was at least more convincing than you. Even until the end, he insisted that it wasn’t true—and for a split second, I even believed him,” Leopold continues as he turns to her dressing table and runs his fingers over a tiara that sits carelessly by her hairbrush. “You never did appreciate

“Appreciate it? I never wanted it…” He looks back at her with widening eyes and in one swift motion, he turns back to the dressing table and sweeps his arm across it. Regina flinches as the glass bottles smash on the floor and he turns back to her as perfumes and potions pool on the floor. Anger beings to bubble at her core as she thinks of how he manipulated her—how he’s always manipulated her—and took pleasure in it. He didn’t see her as a human, she was simply one of his many things. “Why did you marry me?” She hears herself ask, as fresh tears well in her eyes. “What made you ever think marrying me was…some sort of gift to me? I begged you. And I pleaded and I bargained and you wouldn’t hear any of it.”

“You should have been grateful, Regina.”

“Why? Because I’m a queen? Because I have a meaningless title and a lonely life?” Her jaw tightens as she feels her fingers beginning to tingle with magic. Her hands tremble with fear, but her anger overpowers it. “You know how unhappy I am—you’ve always known.”

Leopold nods and takes a step toward her, grabbing onto her wrist—and slowly, that that tingle of magic she’d hoped could save her begins to fade.

_____

She stands in the middle of the room, looking around as tears once more fill her eyes. Swallowing hard, she forces the tears down her cheeks and barely feels them—she’s completely numb. Balancing on one foot, she picks up the tiara which landed on the stool in front of her dressing table and she flinches at the sound of footsteps. Turning quickly to see Rumplestiltskin sitting at the edge of her bed, smiling as he arches an eyebrow as grapples to cover herself up.

“Is love really worth it, dearie?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your little love affair, is it really worth it?” Her brow furrows. “I saw your little display of light magic.”

“You were… _watching_?”

He shrugs, “It was quite impressive, but,” he pauses and laughs. “But it’s artificial.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you thought that was real? Those warm fuzzy feelings that triggered your magic?” A smile twists onto his lips. “It never occurred to you how false that sense of security is, did it? It never occurred to you that those feelings weren’t what fueled your magic, but the fear of losing them.”

“I…don’t understand.”

“I had to remind you,” he purrs. “You had to be reminded of all you could lose.” Regina watches as his eyes fall to her foot then slowly he rises them back up to meet hers. “Such a pity that you had to get hurt, but oh, did it work deliciously into my favor.”

Regina’s lips purse—it was all manufactured to lead them to this moment. Leopold ‘discovered’ nothing; he’d been informed and made to feel like a fool. “ _You_ …told him.”

Rumple just shrugs his shoulder, cackling as his eyes flash with amusement. “I was only doing my job as a good citizen.”

She doesn’t reply, instead her jaw clenches as she hurls the tiara forward, her breath catching her chest as he disappears in a cloud of red smoke as the tiara hits a vase near the beg and shatters it. Her face crumples as she turns away, grabbing onto the edge of the table, steadying herself as hot tears stream down her cheeks—even the little slivers of control she felt she had were false, nothing more than strings attached to a marionette.

“Regina?”

She looks up, watching as Robin emerges from the shadows. His brow is creases and his eyes are wide, and when she takes a step toward him, she grimaces as pain surges through her. She looks away momentarily and when she looks back, he’s standing in front of her, reaching out with a soft, tentative hand.

“You shouldn’t be here…”

“Regina, what happened?” She shakes her head as fresh tears brim in her eyes, her lungs constricting and stopping her words. “Are you alright?”

She musters a nod as she looks up at him, “He knows.”

“Who does? The king?”

She nods, “And Rumplestiltskin told him.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, his eyes trailing over her, taking in the torn night dress and her bloodied lip. Slowly he reaches out, rubbing the back of his fingers over her cheek.

“Oh, I…” she touches her fingers to her lip. “I just bit down too hard and…”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says, anger rising in his soft voice as his hand finds hers.

“I know…” she murmurs in a shaky voice, watching as he turns her hand in his, slowly pushing up the sleeve of her night dress to reveal of darkening bruise. She looks down at it and then looks back to him and again, her face crumbles as her breath catches in her throat.

“He hurt you.” She sucks in a deep breath, feeling his hands beginning to tremble with anger. “He…he found out about us and he…”

“Not us,” she cuts in. “He doesn’t know it’s you. He thinks I was having an affair one of his knights.” She pauses and presses her eyes closed as tears escape the sides. “He had him hanged—and I—I thought it was you and…”

“I’m here,” he murmurs, taking a step in as his hand slides around her waist, gently pulling her in. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You shouldn’t be.” He presses a kiss to her temple as she hugs him tighter, her fingers clinging to his shirt. “You should go…”

“I won’t leave you.”

“If he comes in and…”

“Leave that to me,” he murmurs drawing her closer. “The way I am feeling right now, it’d be he who was sorry for finding us.” He exhales a slow breath. “Are you okay?” She nods but still holds onto him and he makes no effort to let her go.

Instead, he helps her over to the wardrobe, withdrawing a fresh nightdress, and helps her slip it on. He holds her hand as he leads her over to the fireplace, and stokes the dwindling flame, adding wood until the flame begins to rise. She sits back on the chaise longue in front of the fire, watching as he turns to her with a warm smile, before joining her. She settles into his arms as he pulls her into his lap, holding her close and stroking this fingers soothingly up and down her back—and for what seems like the umpteenth time, she was wishes that she were stronger than she is—strong enough to protect him, strong enough to protect herself and strong enough to fight for them—but she’s not. Tears well in her eyes as he murmurs something sweet to her then reminds her that he loves her. He says it over and over again as she cuddles closer. She’s glad that he can’t see her face, that he can’t watch it crumble; and she’s glad that he can’t hear her mother’s words repeating over and over again in her head as she reminds herself that love is weakness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Regina deal with the aftermath of Leopold finding out about her supposed lover; and word of the queen’s affair travels through the kingdom.
> 
> Trigger warning: There is a flashback to the night Leopold found out about Regina's affair, and deals with her rape. It's only a few sentences and is at the beginning of the italicized part, if you want to skip that.

Regina’s eyes flutter open and she smiles softly. Robin is there beside her, strumming his fingers absently up and down the length of her arm—from shoulder to wrist and then back again—his touch is light and sweet, and even though she knows that he shouldn’t be there with her, she can’t bring herself to ask him to leave.

After the night he’d come to see her and found her standing at her dressing table, her wrists bruised and her lip bloodied, he came back the following night—and then night after that and the one after that. At first, she’d tried to protest—she’d tried to tell him that he should leave and it was too dangerous for him to be there. But her objections had been halfhearted and she was relieved that he’d seen through them—and he kept coming back, refusing to give up, regardless of what she said. Every night, he came to her, sneaking in through the tunnels and waiting for her maid to leave, and then slipping into bed with her and holding her through the night. And though it’s only been a few nights—just more than a week—when it’s just the two of them, she finds it difficult to remember what it was like to sleep without him at her side.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs in a hushed voice. “It’s not quite dawn. We still have time, love.”

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping, too?” She asks groggily. “It’s…late or…early…” She smiles and blinks her hooded eyes. “I’m not quite sure which.”

“I can sleep later,” he tells her, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But you can’t.”

“Doesn’t it sort of…defeat the purpose of you being here if I’m not awake?”

“Quite the contrary.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Silly me for thinking you were here to spend time with me.”

He rolls his eyes and edges closer to her, pulling her into his arms. “While I agree that I enjoy visiting with you when you’re talking and walking and… well, conscious,” he says, nuzzling against her neck and brushing his lips just below her earlobe. “I won’t deny that this has its perks, too.”

She closes her eyes and sighs, leaning into him. “That feels nice.”

“Good,” he murmurs against her skin. “Now close your eyes and go back to sleep.”

She thinks to protest, but can’t muster the words—and in spite of her desire to stay awake, her hooded eyes sink closed as she drifts back to sleep easily and regretfully, knowing that in just a short while, he’ll kissing her awake to say his goodbyes…

Her thoughts began to spiral back to that night—just more than week ago—that felt like a distant memory. She still had the bruises, though they were fading and the soreness had gone away, but as the memory drifted closer and closer it felt so real and so fresh. During the day, it was much more manageable to keep the memories at bay—and she was good at that part, pushing back the painful things that happened to her, compartmentalizing them and tucking them back into the recesses her memory. She pushed them far enough that they didn’t plague her, but not quite far enough not to forget them entirely.

She’d been doing this for almost her entire life—and what started as a coping mechanism when she was a child had become a way of life, something that carried her through her teenage years and into adulthood. And it had served her well enough—getting her through her days and nearly through her nights. But having Robin there with her—there beside her, holding her though the nightmares and making her feel like she didn’t have keep everything bottled up inside of her—proved to be a far more comforting and far less lonely way of life.

_“It’s okay, love,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.” He strokes her hair as she sobs into his chest. She could still feel Leopold’s body over hers—heavy and intrusive—and she could still feel his breath on her lips. He hadn’t tried to kiss her; instead, he’d held her chin, forcing her to look at him, forcing her to understand her place in his household._

_“You…you shouldn’t be here,” she murmurs, looking up at him through her tears. “If he comes back…”_

_“I’m not afraid of him,” he replies easily, stroking his hand over her back, only barely touching her through her nightdress. “If he comes in tonight, he’s the one who will be sorry.”_

_“Robin, if he sees you here…”_

_“Let him.”_

_“But, he’ll…”_

_“No,” Robin says, as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “He won’t. He won’t do anything to me and he won’t do anything else to you,” he says, as she lifts her head from his shoulder as her heart begins to beat faster, thinking of the knight whose lifeless body had been left to hang in the gallows as a reminder. “Because if he were to walk in the room, right this second, he’d be dead before he even had the time to realize what he was walking in on.”_

_“You’d…kill him?”_

_“The only thing stopping me from doing it right now is that I’d have to leave you.”_

_“Robin…”_

_“Regina,” he cuts in, his voice soft yet firm and his eyes loving yet angry. “What he did to you tonight…” He shakes his head. “…it’s not okay.” He lets out a shaky breath. “And it’s… not the first time something like this has happened, is it?”_

_She hesitates for a second, looking at him with teary eyes, not wanting to explain. “It’s…usually not this… violent.” She closes her eyes as hot tears threaten to fall as she hears him exhale and feels him tighten his hold on her. “At least it isn’t anymore.”_

_“I wish you’d let me take you away from here, away from this,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You don’t deserve to be forced to live this way. Marrying him was never your choice and you shouldn’t be obligated to stay.” Gently, he brushes his lips over her jaw. “Please, let me take you away from here.”_

_“I… can’t,” she squeaks out as her breath catches in her throat. “I can’t because if we ran away together, he’d find us. He’d find us he’d do to you exactly what he did to that knight. I can’t live that way… I couldn’t go on, knowing that you were gone because of me.” She looks up at him, shaking her head as tears streak down her cheeks. “For five minutes tonight, I thought he’d killed you. I thought you were gone and never coming back, and…that feeling that I felt in those five minutes hurt more than anything he could ever do to me.”_

_“You don’t know that he’d find us.”_

_“If he didn’t, Rumplestiltskin would.” Her eyes fall away from his and she presses them shut, forcing tears out from either side. “Besides, I could…never fit into your world.”_

_“What?” He takes a breath and wipes away the tears falling down her cheeks. “Regina, you_ are _the most important thing in my world.”_

_“I…don’t know anything,” she says, opening her eyes and bringing hers up to meet his. “I don’t know anything about living life. This morning, when I was watching you make breakfast for us…I…I could never do that. I can’t even boil an egg.” She shakes her head. “All my life, my food has just appeared. My clothes just appear in my closet. Every day, someone comes in to dress me and make my bed and…and… do all of things that… are useful and worthwhile and…” Her voice trails off and her eyes fall away from his. “I’d be such a disappointment.”_

_“No,” he’s quick to say. “No, Regina. You wouldn’t ever be a disappointment.” He pauses and gently lifts her chin. “You’re not a disappointment. The only reason you don’t know how to do those things is because you were never taught. That doesn’t make you…inadequate or…anything, really.” He offers her a small grin, as he runs his hand down her arm, sliding his fingers down her wrist and palm and then lacing his fingers through hers. “Besides, you can do things that I can’t.”_

_“Like what?”_

_“Magic.”_

_“I’m terrible at it.”_

_“That’s not what it seemed like to me.”_

_“I just…got lucky yesterday.” She sighs and shakes her head. “My magic lessons are…pathetic. I can’t do anything.”_

_“I think it was more than just luck,” he murmurs gently. “Maybe it’s the source.” Slowly, her eyes turn upward, her brow furrowing as she listens. “You said you had to focus on something negative, right? Like fear or anger.” She nods—remembering how just a few hours before her supposed magic had failed, leaving her defenseless against Leopold. “When you did magic with me, you weren’t focusing on something negative, were you?” She blinks, remembering the way she’d focused on him—the way he was touching her, the way it made her feel, that tingling warmth she felt whenever he was close to her—and she shakes her head as a soft smile edges onto his lips. “Maybe it wasn’t just luck. Maybe you just need to… adjust some things. Maybe you’re more powerful than you think you are.” Leaning in he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Regina, you’re stronger than you know.”_

_She felt was seemed like a grin pulling the corners of her mouth, but no sooner than it could register, she heard her bedroom door creak open and her heart began to race, beating so loudly she could hear it echoing in her ears. Her stomach dropped and a chill ran down her spine as the voice inside of her head screamed for her to move away from him, to somehow hide him or at the very least not make it seem so incriminating—but she found herself immobilized. Turning her head quickly, she looks over her shoulder with fearful and pleading eyes, ready to beg for his salvation, willing to sacrifice herself instead—but as soon as she sees her father standing in the doorway, she feels her shoulder relax and her heart beat slows. Robin’s hand gives hers a soft squeeze and he whispers to her, reminding her that she’s okay, as her father just stands there in the doorway, completely aghast._

_His eyes are wide and his jaw is gaping open as he looks from Robin and Regina to shattered vase at her bedside. From there his eyes move to the messy bed of tangled blankets and the ripped nightdress that lay atop them. He looks to her dressing table, his eyes lingering over the broken glass that sat in puddles of potions and oils. And then finally, they drift back to Robin and Regina in front of the fire._

_“Wh-what happened?”_

_“What always happens,” Regina hears herself say in an icily distant voice, unable to look at her father—not wanting him to be there, seeing her this way, and not wanting admit to herself that there was a small part of her that blamed him, every time this happened because before it started, he could have stopped it. “Please leave.”_

_“The… the king did this?”_

_“Who else?”_

_“Regina…”_

_“Daddy, please…” She pleads, looking up as he nods, still looking around the room in astonishment, as if just realizing what it’s meant for her to be queen, as she if she hadn’t spent the first year of her marriage crying and begging him to help her find a way out, for someone to save her. “Go,” she says in a shaky voice as she watches him through teary eyes._

_“It wasn’t… supposed to be like this,” Henry murmurs. “Regina, you were supposed to be…”_

_“I’m asking you to go,” she tells him in a firm, but shaking voice as she finally allows her eyes to meet his. “Please go.”_

_He stares at her with curiously puzzled expression—and for a second, it’s as he’s not her father, as if he’s someone else entirely—and then he nods and his eyes fall away from hers, as he once more looks around the room, taking it in in absolute disbelief._

_And then he goes._

_When the door clicks shut her face crumples as she turns to Robin, burying her face in his chest as her breath catches her in throat, forcing out the tears she’d been struggling to keep in. Robin’s arms wrap around her and he holds her tightly, pressing soft kisses into her hair as tells her over and over again how much he loves her…because it’s the only thing he can say to soothe her that isn’t a lie…_

She’s swears that she’d only closed her eyes for a few minutes when she feels his lips trailing down her jaw, slowly but surely waking her. Her heart is pounding her in chest as flickers of what she’s not sure to describe as a nightmare or a memory remain on the periphery of her conscious. Her eyes flutter as she rolls onto her side, forcing his arm to slide across her hip. He smiles at her as his hand pushes up against the small of her back, drawing her in and kissing her, and she feels herself relax.

“Good morning,” he murmurs against her mouth, making her smile as she leans back in, letting him kiss her again as leans back and pulls him down on top of her. “Good morning, indeed.”

“I…wish you could stay.”

“You know, I could…” He murmurs. “You could come with me and we could…”

“Robin…”

“I know. You can’t,” he says with a sigh, leaning back in and pecking at her lips before pulling back. Her fingers linger on his stubbly jaw and she doesn’t want him to go—more than anything she wants him to stay or better yet to go with him, but she knows that’s not an option—they don’t have the luxury of options. “But you can’t blame a guy for trying,” he tells her, offering her a wink that’s supposed to set her at ease, but only makes her feel regret—regretting that she can’t change her life, that she can’t walk out of the trap, that she can’t take control of her life, and that she can’t give him what they both want. Smiling sadly, she watches him get out of bed and pull on his clothes, carefully keeping his eyes on the horizon.

She can’t help but notice how tired he looks—she knows that he doesn’t sleep when he’s with her. Instead, he stays awake, holding her and soothing her and making sure that when nightmares inevitably wake her, as she relieves the painful and not-so-distant memories over and over again, he’s there to calm her and remind her that she’s alright. And no matter how much she insists that he shouldn’t come or that he should at least sleep, he refuses to do anything differently.

Usually, it was at this point, he’d kiss her goodbye, disappearing into the tunnels and allowing himself to slip out into the darkness unnoticed. But today, he sits back down at the edge of her bed, taking her hand as his other hand slips over her hip as he leans in and kisses her softly.

“You should… go.”

“I know.”

“It’s almost sunrise and…”

“And it’s not quite sunrise yet.” She laughs a little and tips her head to the side curiously as he leans in and drops a quick kiss onto her lips. “I… might be a little later tonight.”

“Oh,” she murmurs back. “You don’t have to come if you don’t...”

“I want to,” he insists. “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone. So if I can’t take you away from here, I’m going to come to you,” he tells her, lightly squeezing her hand. “I’ll be here. I promise you. I just might be a little later and I don’t want you to worry.”

“So, um… why later?”

“Just a little mission,” he tells her with a wink and a slight grin. “You’ll see.”

“A… robbery?”

“Something like that.”

“Something like that,” she repeats, shifting as she looks at him curiously, suddenly feeling a little anxious. “Will you…be alone?”

“No.”

“Good. I’m glad,” she tells him, smiling faintly, “It sounds…exciting.”

“It is,” he tells her with a nod. “It’s dangerous, but exciting.” Leaning in, he pecks her lips. “But all the best things are.”

Her heart flutters as she feels a rush of mixed emotion—finally settling somewhere between worry and envy. “Promise you’ll be careful though?”

“Always,” he tells her with a sincere nod. “I’ve got something pretty great to come back to.”

Her cheeks flush as he gives her hand a tight squeeze before getting up and disappearing into the darkened tunnel. She gets out of bed and reaches for the dressing robe, opening the doors to her balcony and stepping out into the cool morning air—waiting and then watching as he disappears back into the forest.

_______

Robin saunters groggily down the stairs, running his fingers through his hair as he yawns and rounds the bar. The sun is high, marking mid-day and he feels oddly disoriented, his body still not used to the odd sleeping patterns he’s been holding for the past several days. Little John looks up from where he stands, filling bottles with ale, and arches an eyebrow—yet another marker of the time.

“Well, you look like hell.”

“I, uh, haven’t been getting very much sleep lately,” he replies, turning his head to either side, and popping his neck. “No matter what I do, I just can’t adjust to sleeping the middle of the day.”

“I suppose this means you’ve had another sleepless night?” A sly and seemingly knowing grin stretches across his lips. “You’ve been having a lot of those lately,” he comments, watching closely as Robin reaches for a glass, filling a ladle with ale and sloppily pouring it into the glass. “I happened to notice that you weren’t in your room… again.”

“I was with Regina.”

Little John’s grin turns mischievous as Robin takes a long sip of the ale.  “Well, that explains the sleepless nights.”

“I was with her,” he says, looking up over the rim of his glass, “But… it’s not like that.”

He watches as Little John’s brow creases as his head tips to the side, “So, you’re…what? Suffering from insomnia? Because I can only think of _one_ good reason to spend a week not sleeping.”

“And I can think of more than one,” Robin says curtly.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” Robin sighs. “I’m just tired.” He takes another sip of the ale, downing what’s left in the glass and looks up. “She’s just… not in a good place right now,” Robin admits quietly. “I don’t want her to be alone, and she sleeps better when I’m there with her.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll gladly sacrifice my own sleep for hers.” Little John blinks, pursing his lips as he hesitates to speak. Robin watches as he shifts awkwardly and sighs as he sets the empty glass onto the bar. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Oh, I just… it’s just that I heard a rumor and… it sounds like there might be some truth in it after all.”

“A rumor?”

“I didn’t think it was true,” Little John begins. “Not with you still… well, breathing.” He shakes his head. “For the past few nights, I’ve heard rumblings that the queen was caught having an affair and the king was so enraged that he killed the man.”

Robin’s jaw clenches as heat rises into his cheeks as he images the things those men must have said about her and her affair. “He thought the affair was with one of his knights.”

“So, the knight is the man who was hanged in the gallows.”

“Yes,” Robin confirms. “He thinks her lover is dead.”

“So, he has no idea that it’s you she’s been having the affair with,” Little John says as his eyes narrow. “Shouldn’t you be... laying low? Staying out of the way? Keeping your head down and doing… well, just the opposite of what you’re actually doing.”

“I won’t leave her alone,” Robin says firmly. “Like I said, she’s… not in a good place.”

Again, Little John blinks as his lips purse hesitantly. “But she’s…”

“Going to be okay,” Robin replies quietly. “She’s… shaken up and he…” Robin sighs as his jaw once more tightens. “He decided to reassert his position of… control.”  It takes a moment for recognition to flicker in Little John’s eyes. “She’s locked in her room… which, given the circumstances might not be such a bad thing,” he says with a regretful sigh. “I’d hate for her to… hear things.”

“Bringing her back here isn’t an option?”

“No,” Robin says with a sad smile. “She doesn’t come out, but she has a maid who comes in—gets her up, brings her meals, helps her clean up just as usual.”

“That’s… not what I mean.”

“And that’s not an option either. She won’t leave.”

“Why? It seems…” Little John’s voice trails off for a moment as he shrugs shoulders. “Why stay?”

“I think she’s scared. If she ran away, she’s convinced we’d be found and that she and I would be killed.” He sighs, thinking back to Regina’s teary eyes and pained voice as she quietly confessed her fears of not fitting into ‘his’ world. “And given what the king did to his knight for merely suspecting an affair… she’s probably not wrong. He would try to hunt us down and he probably would have us killed.”

“There has to be a way.”

“I agree, but she doesn’t see one yet,” Robin says with a sight nod of agreement. “And I won’t force her into anything she’s not ready for or doesn’t want.”

“Well, it has to be better than…”

“Again,” Robin cuts in. “I won’t force her to do anything she’s not ready for.” He shakes his head and refills his glass. “Her entire life has been about being forced into doing what everyone else wants her to do. She’s never been able to choose anything for herself, and her opinion and her wants have never mattered to anyone. I won’t do that to her… no matter what.”

A small smile tugs onto Little John’s face as Robin takes a long sip of the ale, making a mental list of what he wants to do before sundown and wondering if it’s possible. “You really love her, don’t you?”

“I do,” he murmurs in reply as his own smile tugs onto his lips. “I just wish she could see what I see in her.” His smile widens as he finishes off the ale. “And I’m going to help her to do just that.” Little John’s eyebrows arch but before he can ask, Robin leans back against the counter. “And you are going to help.”

_____

It’s just after dusk when Robin and Little John come back to the tavern, hauling with them a sack of successful their plunder. They’re still high on adrenaline and dirt smudges their faces and hands.  The little quest they’d gone on hadn’t at all been what Little John had assumed. Instead of robbing a royal carriage as it wheeled down a wooded path or one of the many sprawling estates on the country side, Robin had selected a tiny little shack in the woods. He had a list with him of seemingly random things, and they spent the afternoon collecting them from the shack and its tiny little garden. Little John had been skeptical—this wasn’t their normal target—but he’d gone along with it, plucking roots and weeds and funneling funnily named liquids into the little bottles that Robin had brought along.

Robin laid out the contents of the sack onto one of the tables in the back room, carefully checking each off of his list and smiling in satisfaction. While he did that, Little John rinsed his hands in a bucket of water, then dried them off as he eyed Robin watching him with fascination.

“I just robbed some poor beggar woman for a queen, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t rob a poor beggar woman,” Robin says easily. “You robbed a witch.”

“Oh…” Little John murmurs as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Well, if I end up with warts, I’m coming after you.”

“You won’t be getting warts,” Robin says, rolling his eyes as he carefully puts the items into a little basket. “And if you do, it won’t be because of anything in here.” He grins. “And yes, this is for Regina.”

Little John’s brow furrows a bit. “Not to be… rude,” he begins somewhat awkwardly as he touches his fingertip to one of the mushrooms in the basket. “But perhaps, flowers would go over a bit better than… fungus.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I guess you know your girlfriend better than I do,” Little John says with a shrug as Robin turns toward the bar. “I just… feel like flowers are nicer.”

“Guess it depends on the girl,” Robin says with a soft laugh as he steps out of the back room toward the stairs at the back of the bar. “Are you sure you don’t mind my absence around here,” he asks, looking around the bar, watching as the door opens and a couple more men come through. “I haven’t been around much and…”

“And you have more important things to do the schlep drinks all night,” Little John says with a sincere nod. “Go. I can manage here.”

Robin nods as he rounds the bar and steps toward the stairs. “I just need my hood and then I’ll be…”

“…all because the queen couldn’t keep her knees together.” Robin halts as he steps onto the second step, slowly turning as his jaw tightens and he scans the room with hardening eyes. “And even if he was screwing her, why was he the only one to pay? Why does she get off scot free?”

His eyes fall on the pair of men he’d watched come in as one of the barmaids sets drinks down in front of them. He feels heat rising up his spine when the other laughs. “Well, I’m sure she was able to convince the king to go easy on her,” he says. “Probably just had to spread her legs and all was forgotten.”

Robin feels his fingers clench and Little John tug at his arm, but he pushes himself forward and crosses the bar toward the men. He can feel rage boiling beneath his skin and his heart pounding loudly in his ears so that he can’t even hear them as they continue to make crude comments and laugh at her expense, and all he can think of his how gratifying it will be shut them up.

“It’s time to go,” Robin says coolly as he approaches him, his jaw tense and hand balled into fists. They both turn at the sound of his voice offering him confused looks that only make him angrier. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me.”

“We heard you fine,” the first says.

“But who the hell are you to tell us when it’s time to leave,” the other scoffs as he looks to his friend, shaking his head in disbelief. “Anyway…”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Robin interjects, his voice raising an octave as he takes a step forward. “I’m the owner of this bar and when I say it’s time for you to leave, it’s time for you to leave.”

The friend laughs a bit and takes a sip from his mug, “You’d think the owner of a bar would appreciate a paying customer then.”

Robin is vaguely aware of Little John’s presence behind him and he can vaguely hear him telling him to go upstairs and let him handle things here; but he can’t bring himself to disengage and if he’s being perfectly honest, he doesn’t want to. “I’m going to say it once more,” Robin tells him. “You _need_ to _leave_.”

“Why?” One of the men asks, slowly rising to his feet, “Because of what we said about the queen? It’s only the truth.”

The other laughs, “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a royalist.”

“You’re going to deny yourself a hefty tab,” he begins in what seems like an attempt to rationalize, “Just because we didn’t show her the respect her _title_ deserves…”

“Well, she doesn’t deserve even that,” the other cuts in with a throaty chuckle. “She’s no better than a common…”

Robin doesn’t let the man finish statement before he steps in and reaches for his shirt, yanking him up and shoving hard against the bar. The glasses atop it shake and the ones hanging above clatter together as he gives him another shove. “No,” he says in a hushed yet harsh voice. “Not because you didn’t show her the respect of her _title_ ,” he begins as his fists clench tighter around the man’s shirt. “Because you’re not showing her the respect she deserves as a _person_.” Robin takes a step back, slowly releasing him and fighting the impulse to send his fist sailing into the man’s mouth. “Now, leave.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve got yourself a little crush,” the other says.  “But you’d better be careful. The last man she lured into her bed is now dead.”

And that’s all it takes—his fist slams against the man’s jaw and he loses himself in a haze of anger. He punches him again and then again and again as he thinks of Regina and her teary eyes as she looked up at him before crumbling into his chest, looking so broken and afraid. He thinks of Leopold and his callousness and the cruelty he shows her; and he thinks of the way people just assume she should be content to be queen, not realizing the way its hurt her, the way that he plays on her psyche and crushes her spirit. He thinks of her lack of confidence and her steadfast belief that something worse is always waiting, her conviction that her complacency is her safety net and that her happiness is something that is—and even should be—temporary. And he thinks of all of the people who have led her to that belief.

He’s pulled back into the present moment when he feels Little John’s arms looping through his and yanking him up and away from the man. He feels blood beading on his lip and he’s suddenly aware of the stinging sensation at his cheekbone—and when he looks down at the already-forming bruises on the other man’s face and the blood the trickles from his nose, he feels no remorse. The man’s friend is disheveled as he helps him up and Robin leans back against the bar, taking long and deep breaths as he wipes away the blood from his lip.

“So, let’s try this again, shall we?” Little John asks, looking between them men as holds out his hand in front of Robin. “I believe he asked you to leave. So, now would be a real good time to leave.”

Robin looks around the bar, watching from one corner of his eye as the two men take Little John’s advice  and head to the door and he scans the bar, noting the sets of eyes on him and watching him closely. He takes another breath, glad that he didn’t say more and glad he didn’t out himself or her in a moment of rage.

“You look like shit,” Little John says plainly as he turns back to him. “But, at least the other guy looked worse.”

Slowly, he exhales and nods, and heads back upstairs to grab his hood—he’s already late and he won’t make her worry.

________

She‘s sitting on the bed with her legs crossed beneath her and one of her mother’s magic books on her lap when she hears the shelf slide forward. She looks up and a smile edges onto her lips as Robin steps out from the tunnel, wearing his dark green hooded cloak and carrying a burlap sack. She can see him grinning beneath the hood as he slides the bookshelf back in place.

“You’re right on time,” she says, glad that he wasn’t late as he thought he might be. “My maid just left.”

“I have something for you,” he says in an easy voice as she slides of the bed. “But, first… I need to tell you something.” She watches as he turns to face her, slowly pulling back his hood. “Or rather, something I need to show you.”

“Oh god,” she murmurs as her stomach drops and her eyes widen. “What happened?”

“Just a little… squabble.”

She reaches for him, her fingers gently touching to the cut on his lip, “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a little scratch,” he tells her. “It looks much worse than it is.”

“W-what happened?” Regina asks in a small voice as her eyes meet his. “Who did this to you?”

“That’s really not important.”

“Is is…” 

“No,” he murmurs back as he takes her hand. “What’s important is that I’m fine and I’m here with you now.” She tries to protest, but he leads her back to the bed, sitting down on the edge and setting the sack down beside him, as his hands settle on her hips, drawing her in between his legs. “All that’s important is that I’m here… and I have something for you.”

“You do?” She asks as her hands slide over his shoulders. “You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” She smiles meekly, still focused on his cuts and bruises. “I love you.” Slowly, her eyes trail back to his. “I love you,” he says again. “And I wanted to do something to make you smile.”

“You make me smile,” she tells him as a grin tugs onto her lips. “You being here is more than enough…”

“Regina,” he cuts in, laughing a little as he pulls her down onto his lap, circling his arms around her waist. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?” She laughs a little and offers him a sheepish nod as he leans in and pecks her lips, then reaches around himself and carefully pulls the sack into her lap, careful not to spill it. “Excuse the… wrapping or… lack of,” he says with a slight chuckle, suddenly thinking that maybe Little John was right and flowers might have been a nice addition.  He watches as she tugs on the draw strings and reaches in, looking up at him momentarily as her fingers touch on the wicker basket, slowly pulling it from the burlap sack.  He watches as her eyes widen and he hears a little gasp escaper her as she examines the contents. “I hope you…”

“This is…amazing,” she murmurs as she pulls out one of the bottles and uncorks it, smelling its contents and then looking back to him. “Robin, this is…everything that was on my dressing table.” He nods and as she pulls out one of the roots, looking at it in disbelief before reaching for a jar of little mushrooms. “I… can’t believe you did this.”

“I wasn’t sure about a couple of things…”

“It’s perfect,” she tells him as her voice hitches in her throat. “How did you… know?”

“Well,” he murmurs, reaching for the book that lies on his pillow. “I was curious about the sort of reading you like to do. I thought maybe I could bring you a book or something to pass the time while you’re kept in confinement. So, I looked at this one and I noticed a few tabbed pages one night and…” He pauses. “I didn’t mean to pry…”

“It’s okay.”

“Well, I just thought that…the tabbed pages were the ones you used the most,” he says. “And I had an… opportunity this afternoon.”

Her eyes widen a little and her head tips to the side as the realization sets in, “This was your mission.” He nods. “You… went to all that trouble for… me?”

“It was no trouble,” he says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And even if it was, it would have been well worth the any hassle.” He rests his head against her forehead, eyeing her as he smiles sweetly as his hands rub over her hip. “Because you’re worth it.”

Taking a breath she withdraws a little and takes the book, as a soft smile forms over her lips. “I… have an idea,” she says, thumbing through the pages, looking up at him briefly as her smile widens. “Do you… trust me to try something?”

“Of course I do.”

She slides off of his lap and picks up the basket, carrying it over to her dressing table. She can feel him watching her as she picks through the bottles, choosing the ones she needs. She grins when she finds a dropper in the basket and a little chalice, her breath catching as she thinks of his thoughtfulness. She hears him get up and walk over to her, his hands resting on her hips as he watches her mix a couple of oils.

Turning, she lets his hands slip to her back and she smiles gently as she dips her finger into the chalice. “Close your eyes,” she instructs. “If… this works,” she begins, “It’s going to be warm and a little tingly.”

“Okay,” he says with a nod as his eyes close.

She takes a breath, whispering the words of the spell in a hushed barely audible voice as her fingers touch to his lip and then his check. She rubs in the oils and continues to whisper the chant, her heart beating wildly, desperately wanting this to work, wanting to heal him in the ways that he’s helped to heal her. She swallows hard as his hand moves encouragingly again the small of her back as her fingers continue to rub counterclockwise against his cheek as the spell instructed—and then, a moment later, a soft purple glow forms around her fingers and her eyes widen as she feels him shudder. He swallows hard as a smile edges onto her lips as his bruise begins to fade beneath her fingertips. Gently, she caresses the skin and then drags her fingers to his lip, careful not to break contact; and she smiles in triumph as the split skin pulls back together and Robin’s eyes flutter open.

“It… worked,” she manages to say as her fingers slowly withdraw. “It… actually worked.”

“Of course it did,” he tells her, his voice full of sincere belief. “I knew it would.”

“Wh-what did it feel like?”

“Warm and tingly, just like you said,” he tells her, as his tongue moves over his bottom lip where the cut had been only a moment before. “Sort of like ticklish, like a feather.”

“Oh…” She murmurs back as her cheeks flush. “I just… can’t believe it _actually_ worked.”

Robin draws her in, his arms wrapping around her as he pulls her into a tight hug. “You are so much stronger than you realize and I am so proud of you.”

She nods and nuzzles against his shoulder, her cheeks rubbing against his woolen cloak. Her eyes closed and she thinks of his bruised cheek and split lip and the way he dismissively said it was the result of some squabble. She feels a sinking feeling at her core as her stomach flop and her mouth goes dry. “It was… because of me, wasn’t it?”

“What?”

“You got into a fight because of me.”

“Regina, that’s…”

“My maid told me there’s a rumor going around the kingdom, about me and that knight,” she says as she pulls back. “But mostly about me.” He nods a little and her eyes sink closed as her stomach drops. “You shouldn’t have…”

“I will always defend your honor,” Robin says, cutting in and lifting her chin. “I wasn’t going to let a couple of drunks who don’t know anything spread that rumor around. It’s…

“True,” she tells him. “What they’re saying about me is mostly true.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “No.”

“Am I not a married woman sleeping with a man who isn’t my husband?” She blinks and shrugs, indifferently not really caring what others say because for as long as she’s been queen, she’s know that people have always had something to say about—what mattered was who believed it. “Am I not what they say I am?”

His lips press to her forehead, “I can think of thousand ways to describe you,” he tells her gently as his arms fold around her. “And what they’re saying—the words they’re using—aren’t any of them.” His hand rubs against her back and she feels herself melting to him. “They don’t know you. They only know the stories they hear.” He hugs her tighter and presses a kiss into her hair. “And they’re wrong.”

“I don’t care,” she murmurs as she nuzzles closer. “I just hate that… you were hurt because of me.”

“Well, I’m not hurting now,” he grins, pulling back a little so that they’re looking at each other, “Because of you.”

In spite of herself, she laughs, shaking her head as she takes a step back and takes hold of his hands, tugging him toward the bed. She lays back and pulls him down beside her, wrapping her arms around his neck as her lips capture his and she loses herself in him, not noticing the way the mirror on her dressing table clouds or the face that appears all too briefly before fading away in a cloud of smoke.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Robin’s support, Regina’s magic grows stronger and she begins to feel some confidence; and when Leopold announces he plans to arrange a marriage for Snow, Regina can’t keep quiet.

They’re lying in bed together—her hands on either side of his face, her fingertips lightly rubbing over his stubbly cheeks and her thumbs tracing along his jaw as they kiss. His lips are warm and soft, and slightly swollen—and she doesn’t want to let him go, wishing the night could last and he wouldn’t have to go. His hand is on her bare leg, skimming up slowly and sending little tingles down her spine as her knee draws up as he pulls out of her, settling himself at her side.

The blanket is twisted and tangled between them as they continue to kiss—lazy and languid kisses—as they come down from their highs.

“That was nice,” she murmurs as a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth—and he smiles in return.

This was the first time they were together since Leopold found out about her alleged affair with the knight. Since that night, he’d spent every night with her but they’d done little more than kiss. Every night for two weeks, he’d come to her room and held her through the night—he brushed away her tears and soothed her with soft kisses—and slowly, but surely, she found herself relaxing. The wind didn’t make her flinch and footsteps in the hall didn’t force the breath from her lungs. She knew that what they were doing was dangerous, but she also knew that in the dark shadows her bedchamber, he could easily go unnoticed—and the comfort he brought to her far outweighed the danger.

It catches her off-guard sometimes how different things are with him—how different he is from Leopold, and how different he is from everyone else she’s ever known. He’s the only person in her life whose never expected anything from her—never expected her to be something or live up to some sort of standard. For him she wasn’t a queen or even a former princess whose station he could use to better himself. He didn’t fear her magic or ask her to hide who she was because it made him uncomfortable. To him, she wasn’t a footnote in a contract or a possession to be bartered—she was simply herself, and that was all he wanted.

“Are you okay?” He asks, skimming his hand over her hip. “It wasn’t… too much too soon?”

“No,” she murmurs as she pulls herself up to peck his lips. “It was perfect.”

“Well, not to brag but I did feel like that might have been a personal best.”

She laughs as she falls back onto the pillow—she never thought she’d have this.

The night before her wedding one of the maids who usually dressed her mother came into her room. It was late and she should have been asleep, but she’d been too nervous and had been glad for the old woman’s company. They hadn’t talked much, but there wasn’t a time that Regina remembered that she wasn’t around her family’s estate. She had kind eyes and a soft voice, and when she sat down at the foot of her bed, momentarily, she’d made her feel better.

“I just… it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” he says settling beside her, his fingers still stroking up and down the side of her thigh.

She feels her cheeks flush a little as she looks at him. “I was just thinking that… being with you is so different than being with Leopold and how strange it is that something so terrible with him can be so wonderful with you.”

“Ah…”

“I shouldn’t have said…”

“No, no, no,” he cuts in. “I didn’t mean it that way.” He drops a light kiss onto her bare shoulder. “I’m glad that it’s different. I just hate that your experiences have… been so varied.”

She nods a little as she catches her bottom lip in her teeth. “There was this maid who worked on my family’s estate. She was one of the few people who seemed bothered by my engagement, who didn’t think it was this magnificent thing, who didn’t tell me that I should feel lucky.” She takes a breath before she lets her eyes meet his. “Just before I was married, she came to see me,” she smiles a little, shaking her head at the memory, “she told me she couldn’t see my mother having told me what my wedding night would entail—what that would be like for a girl like me with a king for a husband.” Robin’s hand stops at her hip, steadying itself as if trying to ground her in the present and not let her lose herself in the past, and smiles gently. “She told me that it would get better, I’d get used to it and maybe even enjoy it...”

“Oh, love…”

“I thought something was wrong with me,” she murmurs, letting her eyes fall away from his as she twists her fingers in her hand. “That first year was… awful. On my wedding night, I didn’t think it could get worse, but it did. And I’d tell myself it wouldn’t be so bad if I just stopped crying or let myself relax or… something.” She looks back at him and touches the tips of her fingers to his chest. “It wasn’t until you that I realized that I wasn’t the problem.”

He lets out a shallow breath, catching her hand in his. His fingers rub gently over the back of her hand, and she can tell he’s not quite sure what to say. She tries to smile, but instead feels her face crumble as her chest tightens and she lets out a little sigh, having delved too deeply into the memories. Robin’s arms fold around her and he holds her tightly as her breath hitches in her throat as everything she hasn’t said comes pouring out.

“The other night with Leopold…” she says in a shaky whisper as she pulls back only enough to look at him. “He… and I didn’t…” Her eyes pinch close as her heart begins to beat faster. “What if I’m pregnant?”

“Do you… you think you’re pregnant?”

“No,” she says too quickly. “I… I don’t know.” She sighs as she pushes back, falling against the pillow and turning her head to look at him. “It can’t happen again.”

She watches as his eyebrow arches. “Again…”

“I can’t have his child.”

“So, you’ve… been…”

She nods a little as her eyes press closed, forcing warm tears down her cheek—this isn’t at all where she’d expected this conversation to go. It was something she hadn’t give much though, something she refused to think about unless she had to, but when she thought about that first year, it was impossible for her thoughts not to drift there.

“We’d been married a few months,” she begins. “And, in that first year, Leopold had much more… of an interest.” She takes a breath as Robin’s fingers once more strum over her hip in a way that’s comforting and in a way that makes her feel so much less alone. “I didn’t even realize it at first, I missed all of the usual signs… I just… stopped paying attention to things and nights just sort of blurred together, but one day I was getting a dress fitting for Snow’s birthday and… the dress was too tight.” She turns her head on the pillow as her hand slides over his, her fingers swirling around his wrist. “And I resented it. I resented my own child…”

“Regina, I don’t think anyone could blame you for that.”

“Maybe not,” she says with a shrug. “But it’s still a terrible thing to think.”

“What happened to the child?” He asks in a way that’s not accusatory or harsh as his thumb brushes over her hip.

“I lost it,” she murmurs quietly. “I wasn’t very far along and the doctor told us that’s common.” Closing her eyes she turns her head, looking up at the ceiling instead of him. “And the worst part was, I was glad.”

“I don’t think that’s the worst part,” he says, tipping her chin back toward him. “Not by a long shot.”

Though she doesn’t believe him, she nods. “That’s when I found my mother’s magic book and the potion,” she tells him with a meek and sad smile. “I couldn’t let it happen again.”

“ _If_ that happens,” he begins, “We’ll figure it out. I promise.” She only nods and cuddles into him, letting him hold her and letting him comfort her.

They lay together for awhile after that. Neither says much and every now and then, she feels his lips pressing into her shoulder or he lifts her hand to kiss her palm. He’s simply there for her—there and accepting—unwilling to let her feel guilty for how she feels, acknowledging that she’s done the best that she can in a terrible situation. She rests her head on his shoulder, listening to the wind whistling outside and every now and then shivering and cuddling into him as she feels a little gust of cool air.

And as he holds her, she feels herself relaxing—and believing that he’s right and everything really will work itself out as intended.

Turning in his arms, she leans in, kissing his shoulder and across his chest, then up his neck to his jaw. “I love you,” she murmurs against him, practically feeling him smile as his hand slides to her back and his lips brush over her neck. Her tongue flicks at his earlobe as her turns.

“We don’t have to do this…”

“I know…” she murmurs as her lips settle in the crook of his neck. “But I just… want to enjoy you for a little longer.”

“Well, you won’t be getting any complaints from me,” he says in a husky voice as he dip forward and drags his lips down her throat and across her clavicle.

From the corner of her, can see the moon high in the trees and she knows that it won’t be long before he’s slipping through the tunnels and riding off into the darkened forest, just before day break. She knows how long the ride is—and no matter what he says, she knows that isn’t sleeping. And she feels a pang of guilt. Lifting her head, she takes his face in her hands, kissing him gently as she pulls away—and when he tries to follow, she eases him back. “But on second thought,” she tells him, pulling back just enough for his lips to leave her skin. “It’s late and… and you should sleep.”

“And I am not here to sleep,” he says, rolling onto his side and stretching his arm across her stomach. “There are other things I’d much rather do.”

“You look tired,” she tells him.

“I’m fine.”

“I know you’re not sleeping when I am and there’s no way you can sleep in the middle of the day above that noisy tavern.” Her hand brushes over the back of his and her fingers form around it, holding onto his hand as it rests against her skin. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t. I told you, I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe that,” she murmurs gently. “I love that you come here every night and I love waking up with you, but you need to sleep, and if you can’t do that here, then maybe…”

“Don’t even suggest that I should stop coming here,” he says, pushing himself closer and kissing along her jaw. She sighs in contentment and lets her eyes close, momentarily distracted by the soft fluttering kisses and the way his hands slide against her skin. But when they open, she can see his tired eyes and pushes herself away, grinning as he little whimper falls from Robin’s lips.

“Well, I wasn’t going to suggest that,” she tells him, rolling onto her side and propping her head up with her hand. “I was going to suggest that maybe when you’re here, you should sleep, too.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “The only way to guarantee we don’t get caught is for one us to be able to hear someone coming in. I won’t be able to hear anything or anyone if I’m asleep.”

“Then I guess I am going to have to suggest you stop coming here,” she says with a little, disappointed sigh.

“Regina, I told you…”

“And I’m telling you that this isn’t healthy.” She reaches out and rubs the back of her hand against his cheek.  “You need to sleep, Robin.”

His lips part as if he’s about to say something, as if he’s about to argue, but then a smile stretches across his lips and he starts to laugh. Her brow furrows and she shakes her head, not quite understanding as her own grin pulls at the corners of her mouth.

“What’s so funny?”

“Is this… is this… the beginnings of our first fight?”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re disagreeing.”

“Right, but that doesn’t mean we’re arguing.”

“But it is the beginnings of an argument.”

“No…”

“It is…” And then she laughs, shaking her head as she rolls onto her back, amazed at how the conversation has turned. Robin edges closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he pulls her into his arms. “How about a compromise?”

“I’m listening,” she murmurs, pecking his lips. “But I doubt…”

“I promise you,” he cuts in, pecking her lips back. “I will find a way to get more sleep… at some point in my day.”

She grins as she reaches up, caressing her fingers over his cheek, her smile deepening as he turns in and kisses her palm. “Don’t you have tavern to run… at some point in your day?”

“Love,” he begins with a soft chuckle. “You do know the tavern’s a bit of a… front, don’t you?” A smile twists onto his lips. “First and foremost, I am a thief.”

“Well, then don’t you have… um… thieving to do at some point in your day?”

“I’ll figure something out,” he says with a little chuckle behind sincere words, as he leans back in as she lays back against the pillows. He kisses her softly as he shifts on top of her and her arms come up around his shoulders—and for just a little while, she loses herself in his warm kisses and soft touches, not thinking of much other than how good he feels against her…

And for just a little while, it feels like time has stopped.

_____

It was chilly when she stepped out onto the balcony, leaning against the French doors, holding her breath as she waited to see him cross the darkened lawn into the forest. She let out of a small sigh of relief, waiting until he disappeared from sight before going back inside and crawling back into the still-warm bed.

She ran her hand over the spot where he’d been—grinning as she remembered the way his eyes fluttered as she kissed him awake, a role-reversal that she rather enjoyed. She’d stayed up later than she should have, watching him sleep beside her. She’d stroked her hand lightly over him as she cuddled in, holding him close to her as she slowly drifted to sleep, feeling sated and content. Now, she feels much the same—a smile tugging onto her lips as she thinks of him.

It’s not long before the sun is coming up, and not long before that her door is creaking open. Wordlessly, she watches as her maid comes him, tossing open her wardrobe with an irritated sigh. For most women of her status, the bond with one’s made was deep—someone to confide in and sometimes seek advice—and usually a sort of defensiveness that ran both ways. But for her, the relationship with her made was nothing like that—and was one of general contempt.

“The king has requested your presence at breakfast today,” she says flatly.

“Oh,” Regina murmurs in reply as she shifts herself out of bed. “Why the sudden change?”

The maid’s eyes narrow. “I don’t question His Majesty’s orders.”

“Oh…right…”

She catches her lip between her teeth as the maid selects a dress without asking for her input. Her stomach flutters with nervous anticipation—it’s been two weeks since she left her bedchamber, a detail she only knows because of Robin’s visits—and she wonders why today. She feels her hands trembling as the maid tugs at her dress as she wonders, her stomach churning at the thought of sitting across the table from him, listening to his self-important chatter and seeing his smug smile.

The maid’s hands move to her hair and she makes a comment about her matted braid, quickly undoing it and combing it out. She takes a shallow breath to keep her tears at bay, reminding herself again and again that it’s probably nothing, that she has no reason to worry, that this is likely a good thing—after all, it likely means that her time’s been served and her punishment over and that the king doesn’t suspect that her affair is continuing. And though she hates to admit, she enjoyed the solace of being ignored and the freedom that came with not having to put on a brave face and smile through.

When she enters the dining hall, she finally exhales. Snow is alone at the table picking at a plate of fruit and there aren’t any other place settings at the table. She takes a step in and Snow looks up, smiling brightly as Regina enters. By the time she reaches the table, Snow is practically giddy.

“Regina!” She calls out too loudly as a smile tugs onto her lips. “Are you better now?” Regina’s brow creases before she realizes Leopold must have told the girl that she was sick to explain her two-week absence. “Did you have the same thing as Daddy?”

At this, she’s caught off guard. “What?”

“No,” Henry says, stepping into the room, his expression warming at the sight of his daughter. “I’m glad that you’re better now,” he tells her, his words obviously coded. “It’s so good to see you.”

Regina just nods as she reaches for the serving spoon, pretending that she doesn’t notice the footman standing less than ten feet away from her, completely ignoring the queen’s presence—a common and accepted practice at her husband’s court, but one she’s still not completely used to. Snow chatters on about all that she’s missed and she can’t help but think of how trivial and unimportant it all sounds—but nonetheless, she offers a tight smile and a curt nod as she slips into the chair across from her, repeating the sentiment every time the girl mentions how glad she must be to finally be up and about, not realizing that she’s just as trapped now as was the day before, simply trading one cage for another.

Finally, Snow finishes her breakfast as the clock strikes on the hour and she skips off to her music lessons, prattling on to no one in particular about a piano—or maybe a cello?—as her voice fades away. And momentarily, when the girl is gone, she feels herself relax, glad to not have to maintain the front she’d been struggling to uphold.

 “She’s right,” Henry says, leaning over as his slides a hand gently across her shoulders. “It _is_ good to see you up and about.”

She blinks as she looks at him, unable to believe the tone of his voice. He knows better than most what it’s like for her to be queen—and even if he could have turned a blind eye to most of it before, it was just two weeks ago that he’d walked in on the aftermath of the king’s rage and control. Yet, he makes it sound like she was stricken with some sort of malady that put her in bed for a few days, rather than stricken with a spiteful husband whose cruelty kept her in her place, who locked her away to teach her lessons when she dared cross him, who made sure she never felt truly content. Though, she can hardly say that she’s surprised by his words—though the sentiment behind them is nice—their emptiness still hurts.

In the two weeks of her solitary confinement, she’d only seen three people—her maid, who minced no words, making it apparent she’d rather be doing anything other than tending to the disgraced queen; Rumplestiltskin who teased and tormented, delighting in punishment and using it to fuel her magic; and then, of course there’d been Robin—who had been her sanity, somehow making a lonely and terrifying situation feel like some sort of romantic escapade. Yet her father, with the exception of that one night he’d walked in to find her room disheveled and Robin holding her as she cried, he made no attempt to see her despite being only down the hall.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I’m sorry?” He asks as she looks back at him.

“Snow said Leopold wasn’t well,” she says, annoyance piquing in her voice. “So, what’s wrong with him?”

“Oh… it’s… a rather intimate issue,” Henry murmurs as she turns to look at him, her brow creasing. “But… you’re alright? I thought… well… because of the _nature of it_ , that maybe you… were somehow afflicted, too.” Her brow creases as he continues. “Just since you’ve… been with him recently in a way that’s… uh, intimate.”

A child runs down her spine and she feels an odd mix of rage and shame burning in her cheeks as she grimaces and looks away. Her fingers are tingling with magic as she thinks briefly of what it’d be like to reach into the king’s chest and crush his heart—to give in to the darkness she’s been told resides within her—and free herself. Her jaw clenches and she’s embarrassed by the thought and repulsed by her inclination towards them—so she takes a sharp breath and pushes them away, not wanting to become her mother’s daughter

“I’m fine,” she says coolly, looking back to her plate of fruit. “I’m just fine, as always.”

“Regina…”

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, she pushes herself away from the table, wanting to be along again; but before she can stand, she hears the footman stepping forward and she watches as he stiffens—and then suddenly, her mouth goes dry. The king in standing in the entry way—standing there, looking so vain in his crown and robes—and for the first time since the night he came into her room, since that night he’d gloated about the knight he’d sentenced to hang in the gallows, the knight he believed to be her lover—their eyes meet. Her heart pounds in her chest as he holds her gaze and suddenly, all she can think of is the rage in his eyes and the harshness of his grip as he forced her back. She’s vaguely aware of her father’s hand reaching for hers, giving it a light and reassuring squeeze as she tells herself again and again to just look away, but somehow, she can’t.

“Your Grace,” she hears the footman say as she holds her breath and wishes that she could simply disappear.

Leopold’s eyes leave Regina’s, softening in the presence of the young footman and he smiles—and it’s only then that she realizes how loose his robes are and how pale his skin looks. His cheeks are sunken in and his eyes have dark circles between them and as he takes a few steps forward, it’s obvious that he’s limping. Her gaze follows his slow movements and her eyebrows arch upward as he winces when he sits.

And when he looks up, he looks past her, his eyes settling on her father—and when she looks between them, she finds that the king’s gaze is full of fear.

_____

The momentary glee of Leopold’s fear is short-lived.

But after a few days the sinking dread within her beings to fade and the indifference begins to settle back in—and as always, everything just goes back to the way that it was.

Its midday and Regina’s sitting at the window, staring out at the changing colors of the trees. It’s beautiful, really, but it’s lost upon her, and she finds herself wish that she could be anywhere by where she is. She lets out a little sigh as she looks away from the window, looking over at Snow who’s perched at the piano, playing the same four again and again and again. She wonders how long she’ll need to sit there, allowing her step-daughter to believe she’s entertained as she offers lackluster but encouraging words every now and then, before she’s able to excuse herself to go and be bored somewhere else.

She watches as Snow examines the sheet music once more and looks down at the keys, placing her fingers just so before letting them tentatively pushing down, but before can switch from one note to the next the door flies open and Leopold strides in wearing that sweet yet smug smile that’s meant for his daughter as he brushes past his wife.

“I’ve excellent news for you, my darling!” Regina glances between them, watching as Snow looks up at him with wide and expectant eyes and Leopold’s voice booms. “We’ve been invited to King George’s palace for a ball!”

“A ball!?” Snow asks, her eyes lighting up as a smile stretches across her face. “Does that mean I can get a new dress?!”

“Well, of course it does,” Leopold said, sitting down beside her on the piano bench. “After all, _you_ are going to be the honored guest and we want to make a good impression.” Regina just blinks as Snow’s smile fades a little and she feels a sinking feeling at her core. Snow’s head tips to the side and shares questioningly at her father, whose eyes shine with excitement. “King George and I have been talking very seriously about an alliance of the kingdoms—and finally, we’ve found a way.” He grins, laughing a little as reaches out and touches his fingers to his daughter’s chin. “It’s somewhat of a surprise that neither of us considered it before.”

“Wh-what is it?”

“A wedding,” Leopold says easily. “George has a boy just a bit older than you—sixteen, I think...”

“But, I… don’t even know the prince…”

“You’ll have plenty of time to get to know Prince James.”

“What if I don’t want to know him?” Snow’s eyes widen and her smile is gone—and there is something very recognizable in her desperate gaze. “I-I’m not _old enough_ to be married. I don’t _want_ to be married.”

Regina’s jaw tightens as Leopold offers a soft chuckle as if the girl’s arguments are petty and childish. “Snow, you’re fourteen. You’re…”

“No,” Regina cuts in, surprised to hear the sound of her voice rising over the king’s. “You can’t do that—not to her, not to your own daughter.” Leopold turns sharply and his brow creases. “She’s not a bargaining chip. She’s a person and her feelings matter. So, if she says she says she’s not ready or doesn’t want something, that’s it—that’s the end of it.”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion.”

“And I’m not asking for your permission to give it,” she counters, shaking her head as she looks between them, thinking of the almost sickly-sweet affection he’s displayed for his daughter, the number of times he’d said he’d do anything for her, the times he insisted that her happiness meant more to him than anything else—and she realizes that it was nothing more than an act. “I’ve always known that I meant nothing to you,” she says, her voice dropping back down to a more normal tone. “But I always thought that she did—and I never would have thought you’d sell her off as part of a land contract.”

“You shouldn’t speak of things you know nothing about, Regina,” Leopold warns, slowly rising up from the piano bench.

She nods and her eyes narrow, “But I do know a thing or two about this—and it’s not about her, is it?” Slowly, she rises and takes a step toward him. “It’s about me—me not giving you an heir.”

“It’s been nearly four years…”

“I know—trust me, I know,” she replies coolly. “Are you… punishing her to punish me?”

“This isn’t the time or the pl…”

“It is,” Regina interjects, taking another step forward. “You want to consolidate power, not form an alliance.”

“It’s hardly different,” he scoffs dismissively. “And you can’t expect me to just let my kingdom fall to pieces without a proper heir. I’ve worked too hard to…”

“But, daddy, I am your heir,” Snow says in a faint voice, her hurt more than evident. “You’ve always said that… I would rule the kingdom.”

Leopold ignores his daughter, instead staring intently at his wife as she takes another step forward, heat rising up the back of her neck as her fists clutch at the skirt of her dress. “I won’t let you to do to her what was done to me. You _have_ to want better for her.”

“I’m sorry, you don’t get a say in this.”

“Of course, not,” Regina scoffs. “I never have.”

She brushes past him, her shoulder knocking his arm as she goes. She can feel her rage boiling at her core, and as always, she feels so helpless. She knows that there isn’t anything she can do to stop Leopold from setting this all into motion, sealing his own daughter’s fate—but she knows she can’t stand by idly and watch. When she reaches her bedchamber, she throws the door open and then slam it shut, and the glass bottles on her dressing table shake. Her hands and jaw are trembling as rage bubbles up inside of her—and when she turns to look at her mirror, it shatters.

 

By nightfall, she’s calmed down—or perhaps, just found a way to contain her anger.

She’s sitting on the bed with her mother’s magic books spread out in front of her, switching between them as she flips the pages roughly, not really sure of what she’s looking for, but knowing that she’s looking for something—perhaps something to rid herself of a husband.

The wind rustles outside of her open window and she smiles faintly, knowing that Robin will be with her soon. She lays back against her pillows and pulls one of the heavy books into her lap, thinking of how nice it will be to curl into him and let him hold her, to talk to him and let his voice soothe her, to fall asleep against him with the faint smell of the forest settled around her.

And for just a few minutes, she loses herself in the thought…

“Regina?” She jolts up at the sound of her bedroom door opening and she scrambles to hide the books beneath her blankets as Snow’s head peaks in. “Can I… come in?”

“Oh,” she murmurs, glancing quickly toward the bookshelf that sits in front of the entrance to the tunnel that Robin usually comes through. “I suppose so.” The girl smiles and comes in, closing the door behind her—and once more, Regina glances nervously at the bookshelf before looking back at her step-daughter, who comes in and sits at the foot of her bed. “What, um… what do you need?”

“Oh, I was just…” She sighs. “I just wanted to… talk.”

“Oh…”

“Is it a bad time?” Snow asks, looking around the room in a curious way. “I could leave.”

“No, it’s fine,” Regina murmurs in reply, trying her best to keep the annoyance from her voice, “You and I don’t normally… talk like this.”

“I know, but…” Snow shrugs her shoulders awkwardly. “I wanted to ask you about something.” Regina watches as Snow fidgets with her fingers. “Is it… truly awful?” Snow asks in cautious voice. “Being in an arranged marriage, I mean.”

“Yes,” she replies, watching as Snow’s eyes sink closed. “I wish I could say that it weren’t…”

“Do you really think he’ll make me marry the prince?” Snow asks, looking up at her with wide and sad eyes. “What if I… don’t like him?”

Regina takes a short breath, wishing she could offer some sort of comfort, remembering the way she felt when the king proposed to her as some sort of reward and her mother had immediately accepted on her behalf. Her protests hadn’t mattered, no one would listen; instead they only insisted that she was lucky and told her that she could learn to love him. “I don’t know,” she says quietly. “I would hope not, but… I don’t really know.”

“What if I run away?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Regina’s mouth. “And where would you go?”

“I don’t know,” Snow admits with a sigh. “Do you wish you’d run away and never married my father?”

“Well, that was my plan…”

“Oh,” Snow murmurs. “That’s right.”

There’s a piercing pain in her heart as she remembers her giddy excitement when she’d gone to the stables that night and she remembers Daniel’s wide smile; she remembers how happy she thought they’d be together—when it could finally just be the two of them—and se could remembers the immediate dread that had washed over her at the sight of her mother standing there beside her. Her heart had been pounding in her chest as Cora took a few steps toward Daniel and she wanted desperately to believe that her mother would really give them her blessing, but there’d been a little voice in her head screaming at her to step between them—and she couldn’t because she was immobilized by fear and a deep desire to believe that she could be happy.

She glances briefly toward the bookshelf and she takes a short breath, reminding herself that she can’t let it happen again—that she can’t watch someone else she loves die because of her.

“I’m sorry I told,” Snow adds in a shaky voice. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

Looking back at her, Regina feels herself nodding. “I… I know you’re sorry and… you didn’t do this.”

“I didn’t think it’d be like this—I thought…” Her voice trails off and she looks past Regina, staring out at the night sky and watching as the drapes twist in the wind. “I won’t tell this time.”

“What?” Regina asks as Snow looks back at her as her heartbeat quickens. “What are you talking about?”

“I know that knight wasn’t the man you were having an affair with.”

“Snow…”                                               

“I saw him a couple of times, riding off into the woods.” She grins. “I think it’s romantic that he comes to visit you.”

“Snow, you can’t…”

“I know,” she cuts in. “I promise. I won’t tell this secret.” Her grin deepens and it’s the first time she’s seen her smile since early that afternoon. “Do you love him?”

“I do,” Regina manages to say.

“And he loves you?” Snow asks. “Well, of course he does…”

“He does,” Regina confirms with a nod and a little laugh as she thinks of Robin and offers her step-daughter a lopsided smile. “Snow, even if your father does force you into this marriage, that doesn’t mean you’ll never find someone who loves you, that you won’t find happiness.” She pauses for a moment, thinking of Robin and how different his presence has made her life, how he’s changed it for the better and, in spite of everything, he’d given her a sense of contentment she never thought she’d find. “Maybe… maybe the prince will turn out to be the great love of your life, but that doesn’t mean you should give up on it.” She shrugs her shoulders and glances quickly at the bookshelf. “It might be a little harder, but finding it on your own will still be worth it and you’ll find a way to make it work.”

Snow nods, and Regina can see that she’s not quite sure that she believes her, and she understands because only months before, she wouldn’t have believed it either—yet here she is.

“I should go back to my room,” Snow says with a half-hearted sigh. “I have to be up early for a dress-fitting.”

“Thank you,” Regina says, her heart fluttering a little as she smiles in earnest.

“For what?”

“For the apology.”

At that Snow nods again and slides off of the bed and a moment later, she’s gone and the bookshelf is sliding across the floor and Robin is walking toward her. He takes off his cloak and drops it down onto a chair by the fire, crossing the room toward her. He smiles gently as he places a knee onto the bed, stretching himself forward to kiss her, and chuckling awkwardly as he pulls one of the magic books out from beneath the covers.

“Oh,” she murmurs as he turns it toward her. “I was just… doing some light reading.”

She takes the book and he looks up, his eyes settling on the shattered mirror. His eyes darken as he turns back to her. “What happened? Did he…”

“No,” she interjects quickly. “I did that.”

“Oh…”

“Rumplestiltskin told me my magic is getting stronger,” she says quietly, as she looks over at him, somewhat embarrassed to have lost control that way. “I didn’t believe him, but…” Her voice trails off and she shrugs her shoulders, gesturing to the mirror. “But a month ago, I couldn’t do that.”

“I’m not surprised,” he murmurs as he settles back, his brow furrowing when he leans against the second book, pulling it from beneath the blanket and dropping it into his lap with a soft chuckle. “But, what spurred that?”

“Leopold wants to marry Snow off to a prince from another kingdom.”

“Ah…”

“She’s only fourteen.”

“That is awfully young for something like that.”

“Too young…”

“I, um, heard the two of you talking,” he says, as he looks over at her and smiles softly. “You care about her more than you’re willing to admit.”

“I just don’t want her to be in the position I’m in,” she counters, shaking her head. “It’s not that I care, it’s…”

“You care,” he interjects as a slow and knowing grin tugs onto his lips. “You pretend not to, but you do.”

With a sigh, she looks away from him. “Maybe a little,” she admits in voice that’s barely audible, knowing in her heart of hearts that her anger and resentment toward her step-daughter was misdirected. “I just… want to fix it.”

“Is that why you were looking for a spell?”

“Yes,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she shakes her head. “To fix either the mirror or the husband—whichever I found first.”

Robin laughs, but not in the light-hearted way that she’s used to. “Is ‘fixing the husband’ code for something else?”

“I…don’t really know what it means,” she murmurs as she looks back to the book. “I just… thought maybe there was some sort of magical solution to all of this.” She rubs her fingers over the book’s leather cover and closes her eyes, remembering her rage and her helplessness and the rush of emotion she felt as the mirror shattered. “I just… I was so angry at him. For all his faults, I always thought he loved his daughter more than… than this.” She sighs and looks back to him. “He thinks I pushed him to it.”

“How so?”

“By not giving him an heir, by not giving him a son,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. “Had I done my duty, he wouldn’t have to marry off his daughter to secure the kingdom.”  She scoffs at the thought of it. “Every time I think he can’t reach a new low, he somehow surprises me… and I wonder how he’ll punish me this time.”

“You know,” he begins in a tentative yet steady voice. “There is a way to fix this, a way to be rid of him…”

“I can’t just disappear with you. He’d find me and…”

“That’s… not quite what I meant.”

“Robin…” she murmurs, watching as his eyes darken and her heart beings to be a little faster. “What are you… saying?”

“I’ve given a lot of thought to what would happen if I came here and found him with you—what it would be like to come out of that tunnel and see him hurting you, forcing himself on you—and for a split second, when I heard another voice coming from this room, my instinct wasn’t to just stand behind that shelf and wait patiently.”  She looks over at him and her brow furrows—he looks so serious and his jaw is tense. “I quickly realized that it was your step-daughter, but if it hadn’t been… I couldn’t have just stood there and let it happen.”

“Are you… saying that you would…” her voice hitches in her throat, “… _kill_ the king?”

“I’m saying there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to protect you.”

“I can’t let you do that,” she says as her heart begins to beat faster at the thought. “I… don’t want you to have blood on your hands because of me and I don’t want you to have to live with… what you’d have to live with.” She swallows hard and hopes that he can’t tell she’s speaking from experience, not wanting him to see the darkness within her heart. “Please promise me…”

“You assume I don’t already have blood on my hands,”

“Not because of me…”

“Regina,” he says with a small smile as his hand slides over hers and squeezes it reassuringly. “Sometimes we have to do terrible things for good reasons.”

“That sort of darkness is never a good thing,” she murmurs, trying to keep her voice from cracking—and then she notices something flickering in his eyes and his smile warms and recognition sets in. But before she can look away, he reaches out, stroking the back of his fingers against her cheek.

“I don’t mind a little darkness.”

She tries to smile as she nods a little, sucking in a breath not wanting to acknowledge the dark secrets tucked away but momentarily comforted by his dismissal of them—but it doesn’t last more than a moment. “Robin, it’s just… that would be high treason and…”

“And so is sleeping with the queen.”

She blinks, hating that she’s put him in this sort of situation, that he’s continually at risk because of her—but what she hates most is that she can’t regret it because that would mean regretting having him in her life and he’s the best thing she’s ever had.

“Robin, please, just promise me that you won’t…”

He sighs and nods a little as her voice grows desperate, and he leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek as his thumb traces over her jaw. “Fine,” he breathes out as he pulls back. “But I was to come here one night and find him here with you—hurting you—I don’t know that that’s a promise I can keep.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

He nods and smiles meekly, taking a breath as his demeanor changes and his eyes soften. “I couldn’t help but overhear…”

“That Snow knows about us?”Regina asks with a sigh as she shakes her head. “I don’t think we have to worry about her telling. I… believed her when she said she’d keep our secret.”

“I’m glad,” Robin says as she leans into him. “But I meant something else.”

“Oh…”

“Yes,” he murmurs as arm wraps around her and instinctively, she cuddles into him, resting her head on his shoulder as she feels herself relax for the first time since he left her that morning. “I’m glad that you think this is all worth it—that you and I are worth it.” He presses a kiss into her hair, “Because no matter what happens, _this_ will have been worth it.”

Closing her eyes, she takes a long breath, slowly exhaling it as he drops another kiss atop her head—she knows how hard this is for him—how hard it is for both of them—and she knows that she should be more willing to offer him more. But there are things she won’t do and lines she won’t let them cross because life has taught her that if she dares, the consequence will far worse than anything they’re experiencing now—and she silently hopes that he really does believe that what they have together is worth it and she silently hopes her trust hasn’t been misplaced, and her world won’t come crashing down around her. She nuzzles against his arms wrap around her and his fingers strum lightly over her arm—and in the quiet of the moment, she can hear a little voice at the back of her head whispering that this time, it’ll actually work out for her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Regina stands up to Leopold, she finds herself alone for a few days--and decides to spend those days with Robin.

Regina winces as her maid pulls roughly at the ribbons of her corset, squeezing her waist and lungs until it’s difficult to breathe. Her eyes sink closed for a moment as she tries to adjust, but before she can the maid tugs on the strings again, forcing out her breath and bringing tears to her eyes.

“Too tight,” she whimpers as her eyes open and she stares at herself in the mirror, watching as the maid’s eyes roll. “Can you loosen it just a little?”

“Not if you’re to fit into that dress,” she retorts coolly.

“Does it have to be _that_ dress?” Regina asks, trying not to take in too much air as she reminds herself to breathe from her nose. “It’s never fit very well. The blue one is so much more…”

“He _requested_ the pink one,” the maid replies, the annoyance evident in her voice. “And if you wouldn’t fidget, this would be a lot easier on both of us.”

She tries to sigh, but she can’t; and once more, her eyes settle on herself in the mirror. “Sorry,” she mumbles, as her eyes trail down her reflection, watching how she flinches each time the ribbons tighten, and she wonders if this isn’t some sort of punishment for standing up to the king the week before. There are a few more tugs and tries her best not to flinch, and then she feels the maid tying the ribbons just at the small of her back; and for a split second, she’s relieved that it’s over. She takes a step toward the mirror, remembering to keep her shoulders back and her to take short breaths so her lungs don’t fill up too much. Her hair is drawn behind her, twisted into a bun at the back of her hear with little curls handing down around her face—a style she hates—and she can’t help but note how unnatural her body looks this way—her narrowed waist making the flare of her hips more pronounced—looking more like a china doll than a person. But she supposes that’s the point, and she looks away.

She doesn’t watch as her maid puts the dress on her, bending her limbs this way and that way before sliding the silk dress up her body and fastening the tiny pearl buttons at the back. The fabric pink of the dress is stiff and there are pearls sewn into it, making the already heavy dress even heavier. A pearl and gold tiara is placed atop her head and a matching jewelry is hung from her wrist and neck and ears; and before she’s even out of the dressing room, her neck and shoulders ache from the weight of it all.

She doesn’t say anything as she’s lead down the stairs, stepping lightly and deliberately—and when she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she can see Snow and Leopold just outside the open doors. Anger begins to bubble just beneath the surface as she spots Snow in a dress not unlike hers and looking much more like a woman instead of the little girl that she is; and Leopold in a creamy pearl coat that matches their dresses. She’s not quite sure why it’s this moment that her anger over this whole arrangement returns, but as she gets closer and closer, her anger only intensifies.

Snow looks paler than usual, and her eyes are red and swollen—and in spite of that, the three of them look like the sort of family that was plucked from a painting, a likely illusion that Leopold is trying to create for the benefit of another king. Regina watches as Snow stares blankly at the carriage, not even the slightest bit of excitement present within her, and she starts to feel her jaw clench as her hands curl into fists—and then something inside of her snaps.

“I’m not going,” she announces, loudly enough that everyone turns.

“Excuse me?” Leopold asks as slowly turns to face her

“I’m not going,” she repeats, watching as Snow’s eyes widen and she feels emboldened as a plan quickly comes together in her head—a plan that just might work out, in more ways than one

“The invitation that King George so graciously extended was for the Princess, the King _and_ the Queen,” Leopold tells her, as his jaw tightens. “It would be _rude_ to refuse it.”

“Oh, I don’t much care about that,” Regina tells him. “I understand what my refusal will imply.” A grin twists onto her lips as Leopold’s eyes widen—and she enjoys the way his anger burns within them, enjoying that she’s gotten under his skin. “You see, that’s the point. By me not going, I’m sends a statement—not necessarily to the King, but to the Queen.”

“Regina…” 

“I don’t approve of …”

“I don’t believe anyone asked for _your_ approval.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, her grin deepening as she realizes that she’s getting underneath his skin. “Then, I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway if I go.”

“Don’t be daft…”

Regina glances back at Snow, watching the way her hazel eyes stare intently, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath as she waits for Regina’s reply. “I know what you’re trying to do—I know what you’re trying to sell. You want to show King George a happy little family—a united front—because if he saw that you can’t even manage your _household_ , then why would he think you can properly manage a _kingdom_?” She takes a step toward him, laughing a little as she shakes her head. “This is all about power—all of it. It’s not about me being rude by rejecting an invitation; it’s about power—my power as Queen.”

“You don’t have…”

“No?” She asks, tipping her head to the side as her heart beats faster. “Then why do you want me to go so badly?” She watches as Leopold’s jaw tightens as his plan slowly beings to unravel before him. His eyes narrow and she laughs softly as the realization of the limitations of his command settles into his eyes—qualities he knows are quite unbecoming in an absolute ruler. “You need George to think you’re a capable leader; that governing with you wouldn’t be a mistake and taking on your kingdom wouldn’t be a mistake. And that will be much harder to prove in my absence. After all, if you can’t keep _your queen_ in check,” she says, taking yet another step closer. “How can you keep anyone else in check?”

“Regina, I’m warning you. This is insane.”

She ods and squares her shoulders. “Perhaps for the first time, I agree with you.”

“You’re not going to get away with this. You have a duty, an _obligation_ …”

 She knows that he’s right—she won’t get away with this and he’ll find a way to punish her and remind her of her place, and she knows exactly how he’ll do it. Yet this is the only play she has, the only power she can exert and the only thing she can do to keep another innocent young girl from suffering her fate. She looks back at Snow whose watching with wide eyes and then she thinks of Robin—or the man Leopold assumed to be her lover—and then she thinks of Rumplestiltskin and the lessons he’s taught her. “When are you going to realize,” she begins, lowering her voice a few octaves so that only he can hear her. “You’ve already taken everything I have. There’s nothing left.” She shrugs her shoulders. “And that nothing, makes me a hell of a lot more dangerous.”

Her jaw tightens as Leopold’s eyes widen and something that looks like fear registers within them. She holds his gaze, her thoughts lingering back to the way he’d smiled when he told her that her lover was dead, how the knight who he’d believed loved her was still swinging in the gallows—and then she thinks of Robin and the secret she’s harboring. And finally, Leopold looks away.

Her heart beats faster at the slight victory, and she takes another step in. “There’s nothing left for you to take from me—but her,” she says, motioning back toward Snow. “She could still have a future—a real future—that doesn’t involve the _duties_ you know go along with an arranged marriage, and I think somewhere, deep down, you want that for her. Or at least you did. So, go—let her have a good time, let her dance, but let her be a child for a little longer—show that you care more about her than you do your kingdom, otherwise, it’s going to be you whose sorry.”

She takes a step back as Leopold looks sharply back at her, his eyes burning with rage; but before he can respond, the sound of footsteps come closer and closer, faster and faster until a line of servants is joining them. They watch as they load trunks of luggage into a carriage and, a footman helps Snow into the carriage. Regina glances up, to see Snow turn around, watching curiously through the window as  Leopold adjusts his coat and squares his shoulders.

“The Queen will not be joining us, after all,” Leopold mumbles. “All of the sudden, she feels a bit ill.” He smiles smugly and she suppresses the urge to smile back, not wanting him to know just how easily he played into her hands. “Please ensure that she’s not disturbed for the next three days.” His smile deepens as thinks he’s gained an upper hand, not even suspecting that he’s played directly into hers. “No one goes in—and no one comes out.”

_____

She’s practically giddy by the time she returns to her bedchambers—and soon as the door is locked behind her, her thoughts drift to Robin and what it’ll be like to spend a few, uninterrupted days together—and while it’s nowhere near ideal, but nothing in their relationship was ideal.

Lost in thought, she hurries through her bedchamber in search of her stationary and quill, barely paying attention to anything around her, as she rummages through a drawer in her dressing table. She removes a fake panel from the drawer and pulls out the enchanted ink that Tinker Bell gave her, and grin stretches onto her lips. She takes a breath as she sits at her dressing table—and then she begins to write, easily getting swept up in all of the possibilities that the next three days could hold for them, despite telling herself that Robin might not be able to stay with her.

 “Oh! Your Majesty, I…”

Regina jumps at the sound a girl’s voice, and looks up to see the reflection of a scullery maid standing at her hearth. She blinks a couple of times as she slowly turns to face her, and slowly takes in the pretty blonde girl not much younger than herself who stares back at her with wide and frightened eyes.

For an all too brief moment, she thinks back the picnic she and Robin shared over the summer—their second meeting when she was already hopelessly in love—and she’d asked him what people said about her in the kingdom. He’s given her a unsettling reply and she could tell that he’d chosen his words as carefully as possible as to not upset her—they knew of her dabbling with dark magic, rumors had spread quickly through out the kingdom, and they fear they power they believe she held.

“I-I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry,” the maid stammers, pulling Regina back into the moment. “I-I thought the family had gone. I didn’t know that…”

“It’s okay,” Regina cuts in as a little smile edges onto her lips.

“I was sent in to… to clean the fireplace. I didn’t…”

“Honestly,” Regina cuts in again, this time in a softer voice. “You couldn’t have known. No one could have really. I just… I decided to stay behind.”

“Oh, well, I’ll just… grab my th-things…”

“You don’t have to,” Regina tells her, taking a couple of steps in. “I’m in your way, actually.”

At that, the maid laughs and her shoulder relax a little. “A Queen in _my_ way? Imagine that…”

“Well, it’s the truth isn’t it?” She grins a little. “Here you are trying to do a job, and then I come in and get in the way and keep you from it.” Again, the maid giggles. “What’s your name?”

“Molly,” the maid returns. “My name’s Molly.”

“And how long have you been working here?”

“Five years,” she’s quick to say.  Regina nods, sighing a little as she tries to smile. “It’s a good job…”

“Oh, I… I assume that it is.”

“The King’s been good to us. He’s given us these days off, so we can see our families.” Regina watches as Molly’s eyes grow distant, and though she’s smiling it’s not one of happiness or excitement—instead, she looks unsettled. “It was… awfully kind of him. So many of the other girls are just… beside themselves over it.”

“Yes,” Regina agrees. “I imagine they would be—if they wanted the time.”

 “Oh, I…” Molly’s cheeks flush. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

“No, no,” Regina cuts in. “It’s okay. If you want the time, it’s yours. I won’t be needing any assistance.” A little smile tugs onto Regina’s lips, as another idea creeps into her head and she can’t help but think it’s all too easy. “But if you don’t…”

Regina’s voice trails off and the maid’s eyes cloud with confusion, not really sure what to make of the Queen and her coy grin. “It’s not that I don’t want to see my family, it’s just… I’d only be in the way. I’m the oldest of eleven children. I have a good position here, and my family doesn’t have to worry about putting food in my mouth or finding me a place to sleep or… worry about finding someone to marry me off to.”

“Well, then perhaps we can think of something else for you to do in those three days.”

“Oh?”

Regina’s lip catches between her teeth and she turns sharply to her dressing table, where a basket of magical relics sits hidden in plain sight. Only  a few days before, Rumplestilskin had tried to teach her a new spell. She’d pretended like she didn’t understand it, purposely getting it wrong in an effort to delay doing his bidding; but she’d stored the directions away in the back of her head, realizing that they might one day come in handy, and they might one day benefit someone other than Rumplestiltskin. As she draws a crystal from a jar, she smiles to herself and decides that today might just be that day.

“Do you believe in magic?” Regina asks, turning back to Molly.

“Of course,” she replies, swallowing hard, no doubt remembering every rumor she ever heard about the Queen’s dark magic. “I… I’ve never tried to use it, but… I… I believe in it.”

A smile curls onto Regina’s lips as her eyebrows arch. “How would you like the chance to be a queen for a few days?”

“I… I beg your pardon?”

“You could stay here. My maid will bring you meals, and there’s a shelf of books to choose from. There’s not… much to do, but it’s comfortable and…”

“I… I couldn’t,” Molly insists. “They’d… notice.” She offers Regina a meek grin. “We… don’t exactly look alike.”

Regina nods. “We don’t have to look alike for this to work, and if I’m being completely honest, I prefer it that way.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple,” Regina says holding up the crystal. “With just a little bit of magic we can trade places for a few days. You can stay here and appear to be me and, I can… go somewhere else and appear to be you.”

“That’s…” A tentative smile edges onto Molly’s lips. “That’s…”

“Magic.”

At that Molly laughs and her eyes move to the crystal. “Imagine that, me as a queen…”

“For three whole days,” Regina adds as she takes a step toward her. “So, what do you say?”

“I…” Molly takes a breath. “What do I have to do in return? They say there’s always a price for magic.”

“There is,” Regina says a smile pulls onto her lips. “And the price you have to pay is to simply help me out of this godforsaken dress.” Her smile pulls wider as Molly smiles—and then a moment later, she drops her sweeper and hurries toward Regina and quickly begins to work on undoing the buttons of her dress.

_____

When she Regina reaches the tavern door, she takes a breath—and momentarily wonders if this was a mistake.

So many variables are left I the air, and her secret is at the mercy of a scullery maid she knew for less than an hour—a woman who has little to no reason to keep her secret. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth, as she looks back at Rocinante, and for an all too brief moment she thinks that she could go back and let Robin come to her…

And then her imagination starts to wander as she considers what it’ll be like to spend three uninterrupted days with him. She thinks of what it’ll be like not to have to keep their voices hushed, not to have to pay attention to every little sound, not to care how loudly she laughs or the hundred other things she has to think about when they’re alone in her bedchambers.

Taking a breath, she turns back and pulls open the door, and when her shoulders tense, she reaches up and touches her fingers to the crystal she’s wearing around her neck, a reminder that no one can recognize her—well, no one with the exception of Robin.

A little smile edges onto her lips as she begins to relax, taking a few steps into the tavern and looks around, mostly in search of Robin, but also just taking it in. It’s not very crowded, and there are just a couple of men scattered around the bar, some tables and one at the bar, and throughout the room is light sound of idle chatter. Tentatively she wanders toward the bar, craning her neck to peer into the little room in the back, and still she doesn’t spot Robin.

With a soft sigh of disappointment, she sits down on one of the stools as Little John approaches, offering her an obligatory smile as he comes closer—and a victorious little smile stretches across her lips as she realizes the spell is still working and he doesn’t recognize her at all.

“So,” he begins as he leans forward, resting his elbows atop the bar. “Tell me what a pretty girl like you in tavern in the middle of the day.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, trying her best to stifle her laugh when he flashes her another smile—and this time flirtatious—smile. “I am actually looking for Robin. Is he… around?”

Little John’s eyes narrow in something that’s a cross between skepticism and disappointment. “No, he’s, uh, not here. He’s, uh, out.”

“Oh, well, do you know when he’ll be back?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“Oh,” she murmurs as her heartbeat quickens and panic rises into her voice as she think of how she stood on her balcony that morning, watching as Robin disappeared into the woods to return home—and her imagination quickly begins to run wild with hundred worst-case scenarios.  “Last night? You’re sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Little John confirms, his brow creasing curiously at the change in her demeanor. “Last night, just before he went to see his girl.”

“Oh… and… you haven’t seen him since then? He didn’t…” But before she can even finish the sentence she hear the tavern door open and familiar footsteps moving toward her, and before even turns to face him, she hears him gasp in surprise. She smiles as she turns to face him, waving somewhat awkwardly from her stool.

“ _Regina_ ,” he breathes out as a bright smile stretches across his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, are you drunk!? Robin, that’s _not_ Regina,” Little John murmurs, his eyes widening with confusion Robin crosses the bar and leans in to drop a quick kiss on Regina’s cheek. “She looks _nothing_ like her. She’s… pretty, sure, but she’s _not_ Regina. I mean, _look_ at her!”

She laughs out as Robin’s arm slips around her waist and his eyebrow arches as he blinks at Little John. “Now it’s my turn to ask: are _you_ drunk? Of course it’s her. Why would you…”

“Because he doesn’t see me,” Regina interjects as Robin blinks and looks back at her. “I glamoured myself.”

“I’ll say so,” Little John says with a grin as Robin slowly turns back at him. “I, uh, just mean…”

Regina laughs as Robin’s head tips to the side, but then he sighs and turns back to her. “I still don’t understand.”

“It’s a spell,” she clarifies.

“So, he sees...”

“A scullery maid—Molly—who works at the castle,” Regina tells him a grin pulls onto her lips.  “I enchanted my necklace, so as long as I’m wearing it, you’re the only person who can really see me.”

“Ohh,” Little John breaths out as a little smile tugs onto his lips. “That’s… sort of romantic in an… weird, hocus-pocus kind of way.”

She feels her cheeks flush a little as understanding settles in Robin’s eyes and a grin tugs onto his lips. “I, um, I was going to send you a note, but I… I wanted to surprise you.” She shrugs her shoulders as he looks back at her, and she offers him a sheepish, yet excited grin. “I find myself alone for the next few days and I was wondering if… if you’d like to… um… spend them together.”

“Together,” he repeats as the smile returns to his lips. “You and me, uninterrupted for a few days...”

“Three to be exact,” she tells him with a little nod.

His smile is immediate and he reaches for her, pulling her into his arms as he presses a hasty kiss to her lip. “You’re serious?” He asks as he pulls back, a broad smile still stretched across his lips—and when she nods, he kisses her again. She laughs out as her arms link around his neck and her fingers slide into his hair, pressing him closer.

“Not to, uh, interrupt,” Little John says, clearing his throat loudly, and waiting until they both turn to face him. “But I have a sneaking suspicion this is going to mean that I’ve got to find myself a new partner for our card game tonight.”

“That’s exactly what it means,” Robin says with a nod as he glances between Regina and Little John.

“But, what about the…”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Yes, but we were supposed to…”

“I know. And you still can.”

“But you know the…”

“And you have _other friends_ who can play, too,” Robin insists. “Tonight, there’s going to be a change of plans and I find myself otherwise engaged. I’m sure everyone will understand.” He takes a breath and his hand reaches for hers as he takes a step back, tugging her along with him. “So, what do you say we get out of here?”

“Out of here?” She asks as he looks to the stairs. “You… live here.”

“Ah, about that…” He gives her hand another tug and takes another step back, and she easily follows. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He leads her out of the tavern and looks around as she walks over to Rocinante, watching as Robin’s brow furrows as she pats the horse’s neck. “You glamoured him, too.”

“I did,” she admits with a slight laugh as she reaches for the rope holding Rocinante to the post. “I wasn’t sure if it worked until…”

“Not sure that it worked?” Robin laughs out. “Are you telling me that…this horse is your true love?”

“Well, you aren’t limited to just one,” she replies a bit defensively. “And I couldn’t risk someone recognizing him.”

“I know,” Robin murmurs as he reaches for Rocinante’s reins and laces his fingers through hers. “Tell me more about this glamour spell…”

And she does.

She tells him about the lesson with Rumplestiltskin and how she pretended not to understand the spell, how she’d intentionally skipped steps so he’d think she couldn’t do it, but in reality, she’d understood it all. She tells him about standing up to Leopold and refusing to go to King George’s ball, how good it felt to see him look so helpless, and she tells him about the scullery maid she’d found in her bedchamber. She tells him how easily it all came together after that and added a something extra to the spell so that true love could see through it, and she tells him how proud she felt when she realized that it had actually worked.

And by the time she’s finished, they’re standing at the end of a path and before them is a little run-down cottage, hidden away by brush.

“We’re here,” Robin says, watching the way she slowly looks from him to the cottage and back again. “Come on. It’s not much, but I really want to show you this.” Robin ties Rocinante to the post beneath a little an overhang where a pile of hay lays, and Regina grins as her horse bends to eat it. “Honestly, it’s not much and I wanted to wait until I made something of it, but… since you’re here…I just… I can’t wait.”

Robin is practically bouncing as he leads her into the little cottage and walks to the center, and she can’t help but feel a little bit of excitement bubble up inside of her as she follows. “You were right,” he murmurs as he looks around. “I can’t sleep very well at the tavern. It’s noisy and there’s always someone interrupting and… I wanted to make good on my promise to you.” He turns as a smile tugs onto his lips. “So, I decided to buy this place.”

“You… _bought_ this cottage?”

“Yes,” he says as a proud smile stretches across his lips. “Like I said, it’s not much, but I think it has potential.” His smile broadens. “The bed is comfortable and the fireplace keeps it warm. I’ve got a couple of pots to cook in and chicken out back that lays eggs.” He takes her hand, tugging her across the small space to an open window and from the corner of her eye, she sees the tiara she gave him months before hanging from the corner of the mirror. “In the spring,” he begins, pointing to a cleared space where a chicken coup sits. “I’m going to plant some things—beans and potatoes, carrots and snap peas, and some other vegetables. But until then, I have some things canned from the garden behind the tavern.” He turns and looks over his shoulder. “And I was thinking maybe we could even plant an apple tree.”

“An apple tree?” She repeats, the words catching at the back of her throat. “You… want to plant an apple tree.”

“Well, I mean… if you do.”

“Robin this is…”

“Oh, and over here,” he says, spinning excitedly to a corner by the hearth. “I was thinking that maybe we could put a cabinet…”

“We?”

“I don’t have enough to buy the wood just yet, but I was thinking I could build something with door on the bottom and shelves on the top, and maybe you could keep some of your magic things here—spell books and herbs and… whatever else you need and…” Suddenly his voice stops and he looks back at her, offering a meek smile. “And I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

“No,” she murmurs softly, her voice cracking as her as she stares at the empty corner. “You’re… not.”

“I just… I know you can’t get away often, but when you can, I just thought that… that maybe you’d like to have somewhere to go… and that maybe that somewhere could be here.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she murmurs as she takes a tentative step toward him, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. “I just…” Reaching up she removes the pearl and gold earrings and drops them into her palm; and as she reaches for his hand, smiling up at him as she turns his hand palm up and drops the earrings into them.

“Regina, I can’t take…”

“You’re not _taking_ anything. I’m _giving_ them to you,” she says as pushes his fingers down over his palm. “So, buy… whatever you need to build the cabinet and if you need m…”

“This will _more_ than cover it.”

“Good,” she says with a nod as she takes a step in, reaching out and caressing her hand against his cheek as she leans in and brushes her lips over his, teasing a kiss before she pulls back. “And you’re really not getting ahead of yourself.” She’s not quite sure how to say what she’s feeling because she’s not entirely sure what it is that she’s feeling—all she knows is that loves him more than she did an hour before. For so long she’d been afraid to look toward the future, content to live in the moment and enjoy it for what it was, but as she looks around the little cottage and as looks back to Robin and for the first time in longer than she can remember, it doesn’t seem impossible—and so bittersweet.

“Hey,” she begins, taking a breath as she brings her eyes up to meet his. “You know what I want to do tonight?”

“No,” he murmurs as a coy grin stretches onto his lips. “But I’d love for you to tell me.”

“Well,” she begins, taking a step in. “I think you should… go to that card game.”

Robin blinks as a smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. “You want me to… you’re kidding, right?

“I’m not. I want you to go.”

“But, you’re here and I…”

“I know and that’s… kind of the point.”

“Love, I don’t understand. We barely have any time together, and now you’re here and you want me to go and spend the evening playing cards with my friends.”

“Well, assuming that…” Momentarily her lip catches between her lips and her nose scrunches sheepishly. “Maybe I could come with you?”

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

She sighs a little as her eyes fall away from his. “Oh…”

“It’s just… it’s not really what you’re thinking.”

“Oh no?” She asks, looking back up at him. “And what I am thinking?”

He grins a little and gives her hand a soft squeeze. “I just mean that it’s not just a card game. It’s… a set up.”

“A set up?”

“There’s this tax collector whose been coming in. He’s miserably stuff and likes to brag about the profit he’s making off of his collections…”

“The tax collectors aren’t supposed to profit…”

“Precisely,” Robin says with a nod. “So, we invited him for a game of cards.”

“So you’re planning to swindle him.”

“Yes,” he says plainly. “And if I’m there, I’m going to be distracted. There will be other women there, but they’re not exactly… there as spectators.”

“Oh…” she murmurs as a grin tugs up onto one of the corners of her mouth. “So these women are… part of the entertainment.”

“You could say that.”

“And are these women you’ve… been with?”

He takes a breath and then steps in, his hand sliding over her hip and kneading gently against the fabric covering her hip. “Some of them, yes. But not recently and not since I met you.”

“Oh,” she says, trying to keep her voice even. “And those are your only reasons?”

“Well, and there’s the simple fact that I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

She chuckles softly as she steps around him, her eyes lingering on the corner where he told her he’d like to build a cabinet—a cabinet that would hold her things. She thinks of how easily he’d used the word ‘we’ and how he was tentatively mapping out what a future for them might look like—and when she turns back, he’s watching her curiously. “I want to be a part of your life,” she tells him, slowly releasing a breath as her eyes meet his.

“Regina, you _are_ a part of my life. You’re the most important part.”

“No. I’m the thing that puts your life on hold. I’m separate from it.”

“Regina…”

“And it’s my own fault. I’ve made it this way…”

“You can hardly help…”

“But just this one time, I can,” she cuts in as her cheeks flush a little. “For once we can see what it’d be like to actually be together.”

Robin sighs and he reaches for her, drawing her back in. “Well, when you put it like that, who am I to say no?” He grins as a smile edges back to her lips. “Maybe I can even teach you a card trick or two.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs as he leans in and kisses her.

_____

They spend the rest of the afternoon, curled up on the bed and sipping tea. It’s amazing, still, how easy it is to talk to him, to just be with him. They can talk about anything or nothing, and it’s all the same—no worry or judgment or carefully choosing words—just that feeling of contentment and belonging that she’s never quite had.

He hugs her a bit tighter and drops a light kiss over her jaw. “I love days like this.”

“I wish we had more of them…”

“Fall is too short,” he murmurs a bit longingly. “I wish it could last.”

She nods and takes a sip of her tea. She knows he’s not just wistful about the end of fall, and though they haven’t acknowledged it, she knows what the coming winter will likely mean for them. Snowfall will complicate things in more ways than one—travel will be difficult and even if he braves it, it’ll be impossible not to leave a trail—and they’ll see one another considerably less. Leaning back into, she closes her eyes and tries not to let her thoughts linger on any of that, instead reminding herself that they’re together in this moment, and that’s what matters—but still, she can’t help the dull ache that settles in her chest and she can’t help that despite his closeness, she misses him already.

“I used to love riding through the forest on the edge of my family’s estate when I was a girl, looking at the colorful leaves, listening to them crunch beneath Rocinante’s hooves,” she says.

“How long have you had him?”

She laughs a little and she tells him about the night her father had awoken her in the middle of the night, long after she’d gone to bed. He’d wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, not even making her change out of her nightdress before they walked across the estate to the stables. There was a lantern lit and the stable was glowing, and even from a distance, she could see some of the men who worked in the stable crouched down in the stall where her father’s prized mare laid. As they got closer, they could see what was happening—and she could see Daniel, the boy who was her only friend—watching with wide eyes.

She and her father had joined them and they’d watched as the little brown pony was born—and born on her eleventh birthday. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of him—grinning as he stood up on wobbly legs—and her father had knelt beside her and whispered “Happy Birthday.” And since then, Rocinante had been hers.

“How did an eleven year old settle on a name like ‘Rocinante’?” Robin asks, chuckling softly as he looks back at her.

“It’s from a story—one my father used to read to me,” she tells him, her heart warming at the memory of sitting in a plush chair and cuddled into her father’s side as he read to her. Her mother used to roll her eyes, telling him that he spoiled her and reminding them both that Regina was perfectly capable of reading herself. But it never deterred them—and while there were other stories they read together, this was her favorite.

“That’s sweet,” Robin says, pressing a kiss into her hair. “We’re you two close?”

“We were, when I was little…”

“What happened?” Robin asks in a tentative voice. “I just mean, now it seems…”

“Honestly, I… I don’t know. I think my mother wore him down. He wasn’t always so passive. He didn’t always just accept things, but I think he learned that if he wasn’t going to survive, he had to.” She shrugs her shoulders and sighs. “And I get that because there are days that I just… I don’t want to fight. I just… want to do what’s easy.”

He kisses her again and for a while, neither of them says anything; and for awhile, she gets lost in her memories. “Tell me about Daniel,” she hears him say. “You said he was your only friend…”

“Oh… yeah,” she says with a slight nod. “He was. But… do you really want to hear about him?”

“I do,” Robin says, without missing a beat. “I would love to hear about him.”

A smile tugs onto her lips as she takes another, longer sip of the tea and tries to pick a memory to share—deciding on one from her childhood. She was fourteen and they’d been riding on a day that was very much like this one, late in the fall. The trees her mostly bare, brown leaves cluttered their usual path, and Regina had been telling a story about her least favorite governess—a woman who didn’t know how to smile and had a deep brown mole on her lip that had a couple of hairs sticking out from it, a woman Regina swore was a witch of the worst kind. Daniel had laughed as he kicked a cluster of leaves at her, and her eyes had widened as she gasped, then reached down to scoop up some leave, tossing them in Daniel’s direction. It wasn’t long before they were in an all-out battle—leave flying as they ducked and dodged them until they were breathless and laughing.

Her lip catches between her teeth and she looks back at Robin. “I, um, I wanted to kiss him. It was the first time I felt that way about him, or anyone, actually.”

“Did you?”

“Kiss him?” She asks. “No. I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I… I didn’t think he liked me that way. We were just friends and…”

“But he did like you that way.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “But figuring that out was… a long ways off.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Two years went by before I actually kissed him.”

Robin grins, “You kissed him or he kissed you?”

“Oh, I kissed him,” she laughs as she remembers sitting on a hay bale in the stable, very loudly proclaiming that she and Rocinante could certainly clear the fence surrounding the stables, and her cheeks had reddened and reddened every time Daniel said that he just didn’t believe her. “I didn’t even mean to—it just happened.”

“Yes, those things usually just happen,” Robin teases. “I was a sweaty mess for my first kiss and I quite literally spent for days practicing my lean.”

“Your lean?” She asks, arching an eyebrow as she looks back at him.

“Yes, you know… the lean in,” he tells her. “My brothers thought I was an absolute idiot. And I’m sure the girl did, too. I nearly fell onto of her.”

“Too much lean?”

“Entirely too much,” Robin chuckles.

“I just… wanted to shut him up.”

“A better tactic than I used.”

“Perhaps,” Regina laughs. “It worked though. He couldn’t do much more than stammer afterward.”

“Well, you are quite a good kisser.”

Her cheeks flush as his lips press down onto the top of her head. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmurs, setting her tea cup on the little table beside the bed, and turning herself in his hold. His arms settle around her, circling her waist as her arms link around his neck and a coy grin edges onto her lips. “But I  think we could be better.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I think so,” she says with a slight laugh behind her words. “And you know what they say,” she murmurs as she leans in to brush her lips over his. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Mm,” Robin murmurs. “I believe I’ve heard that before,” he tells her as his tongue slides across her bottom lip. “Perhaps we should test the theory.”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, leaning in the rest of the way.

_____

She can almost feel Robin grinning as she laughs out, stumbling a little as she steps back into the cottage—and she can’t remember another time that she felt this comfortable and relaxed.

“ _You_ were brilliant tonight—though I shouldn’t be surprised.” Robin tells her, as his hand slides to the small of her back, steadying her as he chuckles softly. “How do you feel?”

“Like I could float away.”

Robin laughs and quickly presses a kiss to her forehead. “Well, why don’t you float on over to the bed, while I go get some fire wood so we don’t freeze tonight, and then maybe we can get some sleep because I am absolutely exhausted and it’s nearly sun-up.”

She nods and offers a content sigh, and he presses one more hurried kiss to her cheek before disappearing through the door. She spins back toward the bed and flops down, giggle softly to herself as she thinks of the evening they spent at the tavern…

Little John’s eyebrow had arched in surprise and relief washed over his face as Robin led her into the back room of the tavern. They’d joined him at the table, and he and Robin quickly fell into a conversation about the game and how to rig it without notice. They cut the deck and examined the cards, considering discrete marks they could put on them or cards they could remove and others they could duplicate—and from she could tell the plan was terribly complicated.

Her lip caught between her lip as she watched Robin shuffle the deck, and she meekly suggested that perhaps she could try to bewitch the deck. She hadn’t been at all certain she could even do it, but their eyes had widened as smiles stretched across their lips, and the next thing she knew they were watching her perform the spell—the first bit of magic she’d ever learned as a young girl, and the last she’d learned until becoming Rumplestiltskin’s student. She held her breath as the cards momentarily glowed, then turned back to their normal appearance. Her stomach fluttered with an odd mix of nervousness and relief, as she watched Robin and Little John exchange glances, as she explained that as long as the tax collector drew the first hand, regardless of what he actually drew, the cards he chose would appear to everyone as mismatches and low in value.

Robin shuffled the deck and handed the stack to little John, who dealt them out—and just as anticipated, Robin easily drew a flush, while little John had a mix of low-numbered diamonds and spades and single and meaningless queen of hearts.

 “You are _amazing_ ,” Robin had exclaimed as he tossed down the cards and reached for her, drawing her in and pressing a quick peck to her lips. “I… I can’t believe how easy this is going to be1”

“Well, I like to be helpful,” she’d murmured in return as she cheeks flushed.

The game was underway just after sundown, and Regina sat on Robin’s knee and Little John was at his side in the next chair. The tax collector and his friend sat across the table and after only two hands, then men were beginning to sweat as the mound of gold coins in the center of the table grew larger and larger. The space was cramped and she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, surrounded by strangers. There’d been a growing crowd around them and her heart raced every time someone else joined the circle—and every now and then, she reached up and touched her fingers to the crystal necklace she was wearing, reminding herself again and again that no one can possibly recognize her.

“Oh, _honey_ , you look so tense,” an unfamiliar voice had cut in as Robin and Little John had won yet another round. “Here. This will help.”

Regina blinked as she turned to the woman standing beside her, holding out what looked like a pipe. “Oh, I…” Her eyes lingered up from the pipe, to the woman’s cleavage which looked like it could easily fall from her dress if she were to take a step too quickly, and she remembered what Robin had told her about women joining them as part of the ‘entertainment’. “Wh-what is it?”

“It doesn’t matter _what_ it is,” the woman tells her as she crouches down next to her. “What matters is what it’ll _do_ …how it’ll make you _feel_.”

She’d turned to Robin, who’d suddenly taken notice of the woman and the pipe and his fingers were kneading comfortingly at her hip as he reached out with his other hand to take the pipe. “Thank you,” he’d said he’d accepted the pipe with a grin.

“Keep this one,” the woman had told him with a wink. “She’s a cutie.”

“You really have no idea,” he’d replied with an easy grin as winked at Regina. “And you don’t have to…”

“Have you?”

“Smoked this?” He asked as he looked down at the pipe. “I have.”

“What does it… feel like?” She’d asked, her voice piquing with curiosity as she’d eyed him.

A grin pulled onto his lips and he held her a little tighter. “It’s hard to explain—it dulls certain sensations and thoughts but heightens others. Things seems… funnier yet calmer, and it makes it easier to just enjoy the moment and not think too much about what it means or what’ll happen next.”

“So, she’s right. I’ll be more relaxed…”

“Quite possibly,” he’d said with a little nod. “You don’t have to, though. You’re doing fine.”

“I… think I want to,” she’d murmured back, her lip again catching between her teeth. “Just to… see what it’d be like to not… worry so much all of the time.”

“Okay,” he’d said as he handed her the pipe. “But I should also warn you that it’ll likely make you a bit hungry.” She’d laughed as he dragged a plate of crackers and cheese to the edge of the table. “So, bring it to you lips,” he’d told her as he placed his finger over a little hole in the stem. “Now breathe in and…” He grinned as she did, and lifted his finger from the pipe’s stem. “…there you go.” He dropped a quick kiss onto her cheek and passed the pipe to Little John, and she watched as he did exactly what she’d just done. “It’ll take a few minutes to kick in.”

She’d taken a breath and nodded, watching as another hand was dealt—and then, as she watched the pipe pass to another person, she felt a tingling at her hip where Robin’s fingers were. She looked down, giggling at the sensation and when she looked back up, Robin was smiling at her. She did it a few more times—each time noting that Robin passed it from her to Little John, never taking a hit himself, but always grinning as she did—and by the time the pipe came around a third time, she could hear herself giggling as the tax collector scowled as he drew another card, cheering as Robin and Little John won yet another hand, and she watched the game as if she didn’t already know its outcome…

Her head is still swimming as she leans back onto her elbows, looking down at her dress—and a smile tugs onto her lips. She gives a quick tug to the ribbon beneath her breasts and the front of the dress loosens—and her smile deepens. Rolling off the bed, she slips the dress off her shoulders and she shivers as the silky fabric slips down her body, feeling like little feathers as tickling her skin. She blinks own at the pool of silk at her feet, enjoyed the soft warmth it brings.

A bit reluctantly, she steps away from the dress and kicks it to the side, giggling as the fabric jumps away from her. She looks back at the bed and eases herself back against the pillows, letting her neck and shoulders sink into them. There was a part of her that knew she was splayed on the bed was anything but glamorous, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead, she closes her eyes and she takes a few breathes, enjoying the way the room was swaying gently, almost as if rocking her. Her hand rested on her stomach and slowly her fingers began rub circles over her skin, leaving tingly sensations in their trail, dipping lower and lower with every swipe until eventually, her fingers were sliding between her open legs.

She heard a low moan escape herself as her fingers dragged back and forth through the slickness between her legs. She smiled her thumb rubbed at her clit as two fingers slipped inside. Another moan escaped her as she rocked her hand back and forth, lazily pleasuring herself.

“Oh, heaven help me…” Robin murmurs as she tilts her head in the direction of his voice.

A smile curled onto her lips as her eyes fluttered open, watching as he watched her fingering herself as a basket of fire wood rested at her finger tips, ready to fall from hand. Her fingers sink deeper, then slowly with draw before pushing back in—and suddenly, the only thing she can think of his how desperately she wants him between her legs.

“Ooh, this feels so good,” she murmurs, her eyes still locked on him as her fingers slide in and out of herself. “But there’s something that would feel so much better.”

She laughs as the basket drops and Robin tugs his shirt off as he makes his way across the room, and joins her on the bed—and almost instantly, his lips are kissing down her torso, tickling her skin and making her squirm. She lets out a shallow breath as he pulls back, quickly discarding the rest of his clothes, then leaning back in. His hands find her hips and his lips find her clit, sucking hard as his fingers rub gently.

“Ohh, Robin…” she breathes out, as her legs part further, giving him more access to her—something he immediately takes advantage of.  It’s not long before her legs are over his shoulders and she’s writhing beneath him, her breaths becoming shorter and she begins to babble. His tongue sucks her clit harder as she pushes her head back into the pillows. Her hips begin to buck against him as her muffled cries to screams, becoming louder and louder louder until her body goes limp.

Robin stretches himself up, settling beside her as she tries to catch her breath, smiling coyly before leaning in and pressing his lips into the crook of her neck. His lips slides against her skin, leaving a warm, moist trail as they slide across her clavicle as he rolls her nipple between his fingers. She can feel his erection pressing into her thigh—and all of the sudden she starts to laugh, as she reaches blindly for little drawer beside the bed.

And as she balances the silken condom on the tips of two of her fingers, she can barely contain her laughter. Robin chuckles softly, smiling as he pulls her himself up beside her. “You know,” she begins. “It’s a wonder we ever actually have sex.”

“Is it?” He asks, as a grin tugs onto his lips.

She nods. “I mean, it’s just… so funny looking. It looks like a little bonnet for your…” She trails off, giggling as she lies back and he plucks it from her finger tips and ties it on, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at her amusement. Then, she watches as a grin creeps onto his lips. Reaching out, he cups her cheek, caressing gently as he leans in, kissing her deeply until she’s no longer giggling and her arms are linking around her neck—and the only thing she’s able to think of is how glorious the next couple of days will be.  


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina returns to the castle after spending a few days alone with Robin, and notices something very strange about the king. Meanwhile, an odd occurrence in the woods leads Robin receiving an invitation to a royal ball.

Regina take a long breath as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, examining the way the woolen night dress falls around her form. Pulling it back at her hips, she turns to the side, watching the way the fabric hugs her torso and her eyes narrow critically—and then, with a sigh, she lets go of the fabric and pushes away the thoughts swimming though her head, deciding to ignore them for just a little longer.

Looking away from the mirror, her eyes wander around the room—she hates this part, the waiting.

Soon, her maid will be coming up to dress her; she’ll tell her the king and the princess will be arriving soon and that she should stop sulking, and she’ll likely say something crass when Regina’s eyes inevitably roll. But until then, her bedchamber is eerily quiet, just as it has been since Molly the scullery maid disappeared through the tunnels after thanking her a thousand times for such an enjoyably relaxing few days. Regina mustered a smile and she’d nodded, unable to explain that really the maid had done her a favor and that over the course of the past few days, she’d never felt so happy or free, and she hated having to return to her cage.

There’s a hollowness in her chest as she goes to the window and hugs her arms around her middle, staring off into the forest and thinking of him and questioning why she’d eve returned…

_She’s only barely aware of Robin’s hand skimming over her middle and she’s only vaguely cognizant of his lips flutter up and down the crook of her neck, warm lips kissing soft skin. Her flicker open and she turns her head, smiling lazily as she looks back at him, almost regretfully as he pulls back and drops a quick kiss over her bare shoulder._

_“Good morning,” he murmurs, “Time to rise and shine.”_

_“Shouldn’t the sun be shining first?”_

_He laughs as he pulls her closer—and then suddenly, he rolls away. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust, and she sits up and watches as he lights a couple of candles. A grin pulls onto her lips as she watches him dress, pulling on his pants and a shirt—and then he dives back in, pressing his lips quickly to hers as his fingers slide into her hair. She tries to pull him back with her, trying to pull him back into the bed as her fingers clench around the fabric of his shirt, tugging them from his pants—and the once more, he pulls back and grins._

_“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”_

_“You’re leaving?”_

_“No, no. I just… it’s nearly time for breakfast.”_

_He offers her a wink and disappears through the back door, and shivers as the blanket falls away from her. She slides out of bed, and her lip catches between her teeth as she considers—and then she reaches for one of Robin’s shirts. It’s hanging in a slim wardrobe with a couple other articles of clothing, and on a hook on its door, hangs her tiara. She smiles as she pulls on the shirt, remember that day she gave it to him—the way his blue eyes shimmered and the way her heart pounded in her chest. Closing the wardrobe, she snuggles against the thin fabric, lighting a few more candles until the cottage glows softly with candle light._

_“Oh…” He clears his throat. “Is… that my_

_She turns, and grins as Robin comes back into the cottage carrying a little basket filled with brown eggs. His lips are parted and his eyes are lingering at the hem of his shirt at the top of her thighs. She watches as his eyes slowly trail up, focusing on the undone front lacing that leaves little to the imagination, but showing only enough to tease._

_“I didn’t think to bring a nightdress, and it feels too early to actually dress…”_

_“It looks good on you_

_She feels her cheeks flush as she takes a step toward him. “So, um, breakfast…?”_

_“Hmmm?”_

_“You… wanted breakfast.”_

_“Did I?” He asks, setting the basket of eggs down on the table as his hand slips around her waist. “I think there’s something else I want now.”_

_He pulls her in, pulling her flush against him, and momentarily her lips brush against his. But then she pulls back, giggling as a little sigh escapes him, and she remembers that they have all day and there’s no need to rush. “So, tell me. Why exactly are we up before the sun?”_

_“Well,” he begins, reaching for one of the eggs and holding it between is thumb and forefinger as a smile stretches onto his face. “The last time you stayed the night with me, you told me that you didn’t feel like you fit into my world because you didn’t really know how to live in it.”_

_“I remember…”_

_“So, I want to teach you.”_

_“Teach me?”_

_“Yes,” he says with a nod as the egg drops to his palm and his other hand forms around hers, giving it a gentle tug. “We’ll start with something basic.”_

_Regina’s eyebrow arches as he leads her to the heart and reaches for the basket. “Cooking is hardly basic,” she murmurs, watching as he fills a large pot with water from a barrel. “You overestimate…”_

_“I am overestimating nothing,” he interjects as he hangs the pot on a hook, then lights a fire beneath it. He motion her over to him, and she joins him, enjoying the warmth from the fire on her bare legs. Robin’s arm stretches over her shoulders and he presses a quick kiss to her temple. “We have to wait for the water to boil,” he tells her. “Then, we’ll drop in the eggs.”_

_She nods and stares down at the water, and when it begins to bubble, Robin hands her the basket. “So, I just…drop them in to the water? That’s… it?”_

_“That’s it,” he says with a nod. “Gently…”_

_One by one she places the eggs into the water. “Now what?”_

_“We wait.”_

_“Oh…”_

_Robin gives her hand a little tug, leading her over to the little table by the window as he pulls a loaf of bread from a sack. She watches as he cuts into it and puts two thick slices on two plates. He turns to a little shelf and withdraws a jar—butter, he tells her—and she watches as he smears it onto the bread._

_“Okay, let’s check the eggs. They should be ready now.”_

_“How do you know they’re done?”_

_“Because,” he tells her with a grin. “They take as long to cook as it takes me to slice the bread and butter it.”_

_“Oh…” He stands behind her as she uses a slotted spoon to fish out the eggs, slowly and carefully dropping them into a bowl. “What next?”_

_“We let them cool enough to peel, and while we do that, we make the tea.” She nods as he turns back to the little shelf, and watches as he reaches for a clay jar. He hands her a little spoon and opens the top. “Four scoops directly into the pot,” he tells her, grinning as she nods dips the spoon in. “But really, you can’t have too much.”_

_He returns the clay jar to the shelf, and then she arms wrap around her, pulling her back against him as they watch the tea leaves boil. The cottage feels warmer with fire and the candle, and momentarily, she lets her eyes close, enjoying the coziness of the moment._

_When the tea has steeped long enough, he hands her a little grate to put atop the cups to keep the separate the leaves from the tea, and she uses the ladle to pour the tea into the cups. “And now, we peel the eggs.”_

_“That’s very… well-timed,” she murmurs as he hands her one of the warm, hard-boiled eggs._

_“Everything’s about timing,” he tells her with a nod, and she watches as cracks the eggshell and then does the same. She peels one and then another and as she reaches for a third egg, she catches Robin’s gaze from the corner of her eye. She looks up quizzically and his grin pulls tighter. “You just made breakfast.”_

_“You did, actually.”_

_“No, you did the eggs and tea which are the main parts. I just cut up some bread. This was all you.” He hands her a plate, and she feels a lopsided grin tugging at one corner of her mouth. “I’m glad that you’re here and that we get to have breakfast together.”_

_“Me too,” she tells him with a sincere nod._

_______

She’d been lost in the memories of the previous morning—and she hadn’t heard the bedchamber’s door open. But suddenly her maid’s voice pierces through her thoughts and she spins to find her standing in the center of the room with a dress over her arm, shaking her head.

“Does it have to be the green one?”

“Well, you didn’t reply when I asked,” the maid spat back. “Do you want to choose a different one?”

“It’s just that one is… a little…” Her voice trails off and she blinks a few times, looking toward the open wardrobe and the offering a resigned sigh. She doesn’t want to wear any of the heavy silk dresses that hang there. She doesn’t want to wear the jewelry that makes her head and neck ache after a couple of hours and she doesn’t want to be laced into a corset that makes every breath uncomfortable. “Never mind,” she says finally, as she looks back toward the maid. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

 “Very well then,” the maid replies, reaching for her and pulling her toward the mirror. Regina eyes drift toward the window as the maid pulls off her night dress. Her eyes linger at the trees on the horizon and her thoughts return to the forest and the days she spent with Robin in his cozy little cabin, nestled into their secluded little corner of the woods.

Every now and then, she’s be jolted back to the present as the maid tugged on the corset, squeezing her ribs and pushing the air from her lungs. She grimaces and adjusts her breathing as the maid makes a quip about how much tighter she needs to pull the laces, and she refuses to acknowledge why that is. Instead, she lets her thoughts linger back to Robin and their uninterrupted time together, and she wishes that she could relive it again and again.

 “…so they’ll all be back around mid-day.”

“Hmm?” Regina murmurs, looking back at her maid through the mirror. “Who will be?”

The maid blinks, and for a brief moment, her fingers stop moving she looks incredulously at Regina. Her lips part and her brow furrows as if she’s about to scold, but she takes a breath and yanks at the laces of the corset. “The king, the princess and your father return at…”

“My father?”

“Yes, your father.”

Regina’s eyes widen as she spins herself away from the maid. “My father went with them, even though I didn’t?”

“Yes.”

“But…why?”

The maid bristles as she turn’s Regina’s shoulders and resumes lacing up the corset. “Some people,” she begins in a critical tone, “have a sense of honor.”

She doesn’t reply; instead, she turns back to the mirror and stares at her reflection as she wonders why her father possibly would have gone in her place…

_“Stay,” Robin whispers as his arms tighten around her. “Don’t go back tomorrow. Stay with me.”_

_“Robin…”_

_“I’m serious, Regina. You should just stay.”_

_“I can’t do that, and you know it,” she replies halfheartedly as she nestles back into him and pulls his cloak tighter around them both. “It’s just… too risky.”_

_Robin presses a kiss to her hair and settles his chin on her shoulder, and for a few minutes, he doesn’t say anything—instead, he just stares out over the bluff as they’d been doing for the better part of the late-afternoon. His fingers stroke up and down her arms and she can tell that there’s something he’d not saying, and when she looks back, he again presses another kiss to her temple and hugs her a little closer as if to protect her from to cold air._

_“You disagree,” she says finally._

_“That’s… not the point.”_

_“Isn’t it?”_

_“No, the point is that you believe that it’s too risky…”_

_“Because it is…”_

_“Regina,” he cuts in, in a patient but poignant voice. “Everything we’ve done is risky.” He smiles a little as her brow furrows. “This whole affair has been risk after risk after risk.”_

_“I know that, but…”_

_“Can I ask you something?” She nods and holds her breath—bracing herself as he collects his thoughts, hesitating just long enough to make her heart beat a little faster and fear the worst. “Was your mother the only person in your family who had magical powers?”_

_“Yes—well—aside from me,” she tells him. “And I don’t have even half of the ability that my mother had.”_

_“I was… I was wondering about your father, actually.”_

_“My father?” She repeaters, her brow furrowing as she considers it, remembering how horrified he’d been every time her mother had used magic when she was a girl—and how horrified he was every time she used it. “No. He… doesn’t have the ability, and even if he did, he wouldn’t use it.”_

_“What makes you say that?”_

_“He’s never been fond of it.”_

_“Maybe not, but… what if it was to protect someone?”_

_“I doubt it,” she says, shaking her head as she looks back to the open sky in front of them. “But regardless of whether he would or wouldn’t, he can’t, so it doesn’t matter how he’d use magic.”_

_“I don’t know about that, either.”_

_“What are you… trying to say,” she asks, turning herself in his arms so that she can look at him. “Are you suggesting that he’s been hiding this from me my entire life?”_

_“No,” Robin’s quick to say. “I was just… thinking that there has to be some explanation for why we haven’t been caught.”_

_“Well… we’ve… been…”_

_“Careful?” He interjects as a smile creeps onto his lips. “I would risk anything for you, but you have to admit, it’s a little suspect that no one has ever caught me coming onto the Royal grounds to see you. I’ve done it every night for weeks.”_

_“Well, it’s… dark and...” Her stomach clenches as she looks at him, searching for a plausible answer, but everything she can’t think to say sounds so incredible naïve, and when she allows herself to think about why they’ve been so lucky, she can’t help wonder if they haven’t been lucky at all, and it’s all a part of some set up—not necessarily from Leopold, but perhaps by Rumplestiltskin. “Robin, what if…”_

_“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning in as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t we change the subject?”_

_“But…”_

_“The sun’s about to set,” he says, cutting in as his hand strokes over the back of her cheek. “And we don’t want to miss that. It’s the whole reason we came up here in the first place.”_

_“But, what you said… what if…”_

_“I shouldn’t have said anything.”_

_“No, that’s not what I meant.”_

_“For whatever reason,” he begins. “We’ve been lucky. I thought maybe it was magic—that your father was the one protecting us—but that was obviously wrong. But just because that was wrong, doesn’t mean that our luck is about to run out.” He hugs her closer. “Maybe it’s just that fate is on our side.”_

_“Maybe,” she murmurs quietly, unconvinced._

_“I think, given our history, fate being on our side is a much more likely scenario.” He presses another kiss to her hair as she turns around and leans back into him “And look—the sun is starting to set.”_

_She nods, murmuring something about how beautiful it is as a sense of dread begins to seep in and the knot in her stomach begins to tighten._

_______

She was supposed to wait in her room—after all, she that’s where she was supposed to have spent the past three days.

Standing in her window, she watches as a caravan of royal carriages draws slowly up the path toward the castle, and she feels heat rising at the back of neck and into her cheeks as her fingers clench into fists as she catches a glimpse of Leopold in one of the carriages.

Her eyes close as she inhales a deep breath, suddenly very aware of the sounds around the castle. She can hear footsteps trampling up and down the stairs and through the corridors, voices yelling instructions and reminders of directions, and she tells herself that it won’t be long before the palace is filled for the annual Winter Solstice Ball—and though she is well aware that the presence of others isn’t necessarily a guaranteed safeguard against her husband, she tries to let herself be comforted by the idea that this time, it will be.

Opening her eyes she watches as Leopold and Snow are helped from one carriage, as her father is helped from another—and she can’t help but be reminded of Robin’s words as she notices the way Leopold glances back at the old man. She watches as footmen unload trucks and bags, and watches as Leopold flinches when Henry walks past him.

It seems to strange that her meek and docile father stirring fear in a powerful king—and when she watches how Leopold treads lightly behind, she realizes that this isn’t the first time she’s noticed such an interaction between them. But before she has time to consider it for too long, Leopold disappears into the castle and what seems like only a moment later, her door is being pushed open and locked.

She can feel her hands trembling as she turns to face the stone-faced king. She feels a chill run down her spine as he stands there, looking through her as his eyes narrow—and in that moment, she knows her plan worked. A shaky smile pulls onto her lips as her eyes meet his, and she takes a few cautious steps toward him, thinking about how humiliated he must have felt, how injured his pride must have been—and she always wishes she’d been there to see it.

Almost.

“I don’t understand,” he says finally. “I’ve given you everything. I made you a queen. I made you what you are.”

“You made me _nothing_.”

“Are you denying all that I’ve given to you?”

“You’ve never given me anything.” She shakes her head. “At least not anything that mattered.”  


“No?” He asks, as he comes toward her. “Not that silk dress you wear or the jeweled tiara on your head or…” he reaches out and grabs onto her wrist, his fingers sinking into her skin. “…or ring on your finger?”

“None of that means anything,” she spits back as she looks at his fingers around her wrist—and when she tries to pull away, his grip only tightens and her lip catches between her teeth. “ _You_ don’t mean anything to me.”

“You’ve made that more than obvious, Regina.” Her heart races as struggles against herself, reminding herself again and again not to react, not to let him see how he’s hurting her, to not let him think he’s having any effect on her. But she can feel hot tears welling in her eyes, threatening to betray her. “All you had to do was be my queen—a fairly tale that any girl would have wanted.”

At that, she scoffs, but before can find her voice—a voice to tell him how utterly ridiculous it is to think that her life is anything but a nightmare—he shoves her back against the corner of the dressing table as she lets out a little gasp.

“All you had to do was smile and look pretty and provide an heir to secure my kingdom.”

“Oh,” she murmurs through gritted teeth as she lets her eyes finally meet his. “That’s all?”

“And then when I had the chance to secure the future of my kingdom another way, you stepped in and…”

“And saved _your daughter_ from _my_ fate.” She pushes back, roughly yanking her wrist away from him as she steps into the open space. Her tear are gone and once again, she feels rage bubbling up within her. “You’re too conceited to even see it, to even see how terrified she was.” Regina takes a breath as her eyes soften. “To see how terrified _I_ was.”  Shaking her head, she looks around. “This is all a farce.”

“That’s exactly what I felt like at that palace—a farce.” His jaw tightens as he steps toward her. “They mocked me, Regina. Because of that letter you sent to the queen. You called me weak and unstable and they _believed_ it.”

“I didn’t say anything that was untrue.”

“You made me seem like a fool, like an incompetent ruler. You made me seem powerless.”

She flinches when he grabs her, but instead of looking away as she normally would, she looks directly at him—and when he shoves her back toward the bed, a smile pulls onto her lips. “Maybe that’s because you are.” His eyes widen with rage and she knows that she shouldn’t continue, that her words will only make him angrier and his touch would be harsher as a result, but she can’t bring herself to actually stop—and there is an odd validation in that. “Has it ever occurred to you that _I_ am not the problem or that the reason you don’t have another heir is because _you_ are practically _impotent_?” A small thrill runs though her as his face reddens and when he reaches for her, she pulls back. “What are you going to do, Leopold? What you always do? You’re going to shove me back on the bed and force yourself on top of me and make me miserable for a solid eight minutes?” Brazenly, she takes a step toward him and leans in. “Well it’ll be worth it to know that just this once, I got the upper hand.”

“You ungrateful…” He reaches for her, grabbing her arms as he shoves her back onto the bed—but then, as soon as he takes another step in—another step toward her—he winces, hissing as he nearly doubles over. He holds his abdomen as he face turns red and he grimaces, struggling to stand upright. Regina pulls herself up on her elbows, watching with widening eyes—and then Leopold looks up at her. “How are you doing this?” He growls. “How are you doing this to me?”

And though, she had no idea what _this_ was—she smiles and shrugs in a way that was innocently devious.

Finally able to pull himself upright, he takes a few cautious steps back. His eyes stay on her until he’s at the door, and when her door finally closes behind him, she feels herself breathe a sigh of relief. Falling back onto the bed, she loces her eyes and waits for her heart to stop racing, and warm tears fill her eyes. For all her bravado, she’d been terrified—and though it appeared that she had somehow won, she knows that it wasn’t the end of it, that he’d be back and she couldn’t guarantee that whatever magical force seemed to be there with them would also return to protect her.

Rolling onto her side, she hugs a pillow to her chest—and wishes more than anything that it were Robin.

_“You don’t have to come with me.”_

_“Humor me.”_

_“Robin…”_

_“I just want… a little more time with you, okay?” He confesses, as he takes her bag from her and grins. “Not that it’ll be enough, but… it’ll be…”_

_“More?”_

_“Yes.”_

_She sighs and smiles, nodding as she leans in and pecks his lips. “Fine.” Pulling back, she rubs her hand over his cheek and urges back her tears—it’s not fine, and she doesn’t’ want to go._

_“It’s not too late, you know,” he says, offering her a hopeful little grin the broke her heart. “You could stay.”_

_“Robin, we’ve… talked about this.”_

_“I know,” he nods. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?”_

_“No,” she admits as she looks away from him, not wanting to tell him that every time he asks her to stay, her resolve to go fades just a little bit more. She blinks back her tears as she gets onto Rocinante, and she’s barely able to admit that she wants him to keep asking because she knows that someday there will a time when she can’t bring herself to say no—and then she feels a pang of guilt, knowing that that won’t be today._

_She pats Rocinante’s neck as Robin mounts his horse, and when Robin looks at her, she has to look away._

_They ride together slowly along the wooded path, neither saying very much. She’s lost in her thoughts when he reaches over and grabs onto Rocinante’s reigns, pulling him around so that she’s facing him, she’s jolted back into the present moment. He doesn’t say anything, but when she finally allows herself to look at him, his eyes search hers and she knows exactly what he wants to say._

_“This isn’t goodbye, you know,” he says instead._

_“I know, but… it feels like it.”_

_“I’ll see you tonight. It won’t be long.”_

_“No,” she says, her voice shaky as she looks down and shakes her head. “Not tonight.”_

_“What? Why?”_

_“Well…” she sigh. “He’s going to be… angry.”_

_“All the more reason for me to come.”_

_“There’s a ball tonight celebrating the Winter Solstice. There will be hundreds of people there…”_

_“So no one will notice your absence.”_

_“Or all the more chance of being caught.”_

_“Regina…’_

_“Please, don’t.’_

_“I can’t promise to…”_

_“Robin,” she cuts in. “Tonight just… won’t work.”_

_He sighs, and for a moment he holds her gaze in protest. But then he nods, leaning in as he kisses her cheek. “Okay. Fine. I won’t come tonight… if… that’s what you want.”_

_“I do,” she lies, almost immediately regretting her words. “It’s what I want.”_

_____

He hadn’t realized it until she’d ridden away, leaving him just at the start of the path as she rode Rocinante along the perimeter of the woods toward the back entrance of the stables, so she could sneak back onto the premises unnoticed. He’d told her the route he usually took and she’d thanked him—almost shyly and maybe a little sadly—and she’d kissed him goodbye. He stood there at the end of the path and watched as disappeared from view—and the familiar feeling of dreaded worry sunk back into his stomach. His breath felt shallow and his heart beat slowed, and all he wanted to do was follow her—follow her and protect her, and make sure that she was safe. He’d stood there, rooted in place. He hated this part—he hated leaving her—but somehow today, it was so much worse. There was a hallow feeling in his chest that ached and tightening in his stomach, and no matter how many times he told himself that everything would be okay—that she would be okay—he never once believed it.

The worst part of it, he’d decided, was that he promised to stay away that night—he promised that he wouldn’t come to her as he’d been doing each night for weeks—which meant he couldn’t know whether or not she was alright and he couldn’t be there to hold her, if she wasn’t. And though he knew that she wouldn’t think of it this way, he couldn’t help but feel he was turning a blind eye to what Leopold would inevitably do to her.

With a frustrated sigh, he leans back against one of the thick oak trees—a tree that had once been their summer meeting place—and closes his eyes, remembering her smile as she’d approached him on those warm and easy days when the most complicated part of their situation was a ornery maid who liked to keep a schedule. He’d spent the better part morning this way, hovering near the castle grounds and thinking of her, not wanting to break his promise to her, but fairly certain this would be one that he couldn’t bear to keep.

He hears a rustling sound and the crunching of leaves beneath heavy boots, and when the sound grows closer and louder, he opens his eyes to see nothing other than the king standing only a handful of yards away from him. Blinking a couple of times, he stares at him, taking him in through narrowed, hardened eyes. His jaw clenches as he watches the king and he notes the tension in his shoulders. Letting his head fall back, the king stands at the river bank, looking up at the trees as he took long deep breaths and when a smug smile edges onto his lips, Robin feels heat rising into his cheeks.

He stands there for a few minutes, watching as the king rolls his shoulders and turns his neck from side to side, and he can’t help but think of all of the terrible things he’s done to Regina. His jaw tightens as he thinks of that night he’d found her, crying and trembling in her bedchamber. He thinks of her bloodied lip and the way she’d flinched at every little sound, and e remembers in vivid detail her bruises and her torn night dress, and the helplessness in her eyes—and he’s certain. He’s never hated a man more than he hates the king.

Drawing an arrow from his quiver, he reaches for his bow and aims it in the direction of the king—sitting there, arrogantly unaware—and he can’t help but think of how easy it would be to send an arrow sailing through his heart and how satisfying it would to watch him squirm and bleed until there was nothing left of him. As he pulled back on his bow, his jaw clenched tighter and he thought about the painful memories Regina had shared—the way he spoke down to her, the way forced himself upon her, the way he looked at her with such indifference, making her feel insignificant and small—and he knew that he’d enjoy this, that he’d enjoy making Leopold feel as helpless and trapped as he’d made her feel. But just before he let the arrow go, he remembers the night he and Regina laid together and she’d practically pleaded with him not to do it, not to take the king’s life and bloody his own hands—and with a resigned sigh, he turns his wrist just before he lets go, and instead of puncturing through the king’s chest, the arrow grazes his cheek.

His eyes widen as Leopold screams out, cupping his hand over his cheek as he looks around wildly for the assailant, and the golden crown he’d been wearing falls into the river. Blood covers his hand as he stoops to pick up his crown, and when he does, he spots Robin—and before he has time to process any of it, he takes a few steps forward.

“You... you _shot_ me!”

“Ah,” Robin says, wincing as he nods and comes forward to meet the king by the riverside. “I was shooting at a monster… or some other inhuman beast.” He laughs a little as the king’s eyes widen and it takes everything in him not to grab by the throat, shove him up against a great oak tree and make feel exactly as he’s made Regina feel for all these years. “Or so I thought.”

“A wild animal, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Robin nods. “I was dozing and… I was startled. I don’t really know what it was.”

“Well,” the king says with a haughty laugh. “You may have just saved my life!”

At that, Robin blinks, completely amazed by how gullible the king seems to be—and then a smile curls onto his lips. “Ah, perhaps it’s just a case of being in the right place at the right time.”

“Perhaps!” Leopold agrees with a nod as he dabs his fingers to the gash on his cheek. “And why are you in the woods on this cold afternoon?” Leopold asks as he grins. “Something tells me this is about a girl.”

Robin feels his chest tighten. “And what makes you say that?” He asks, tipping his head curiously and trying not to allow the king to see just how nervous his question made him. “What makes you say it’s about a girl?”

“Because it’s _always_ about a girl,” Leopold tells him, laughing as he shakes his head. “Love makes us all crazy—it makes us do the craziest things.”

 “Yes,” Robin replies, as he clears his throat. “Yes. It does.”

“This girl of yours… is it love?”

“It is,” he says easily. “True love. Soul mates. A thing of fairy tales.”

“Ahhhh,” Leopold nods. “The best kind.” At that, Robin’s eyes narrow and he watches as the king looks past him, his grin widening at whatever memory he’s reliving—and he wonders how it is that someone who clearly loved once before could be so cruel to a girl who’d been so desperate for affection and love. “So, why are you here, instead of …wherever… with her?”

“It’s a complicated situation.”

“I see.”

“Her, um, family doesn’t approve.”

“Star-crossed lovers,” Leopold breathes out, shaking his head. “That always makes for such a sad story.”

“It does,” Robin agrees. “And when I can’t be with her, I… I just don’t know what to do with myself. My life doesn’t make sense without her. _I_ don’t make sense without her.” He takes a breath and grins. “But I have faith she and I will have our happy ending.”

For a moment, neither man says anything, and then, Leopold grins. “You need something to take your mind off of your current situation,” he says decidedly. “Tonight is the Winter Solstice Ball. You should come, as my guest.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Robin says. “I doubt being at a royal ball would take my mind off of her.”

“I won’t take no for answer,” Leopold declares, letting his voice rise over Robin’s and not noticing the way Robin’s jaw tenses. “You saved my life today. You must let me repay you.”

Blinking, he’s not sure what to say—but when he pictures the look on Regina’s face when he walked into the ball, not disguised or looming in the shadows, but an invited guest, he can’t help but smile. He thinks of what it would be like to sip white wine and laugh with her, dance to a string quartet and most importantly, to ensure that she was never alone with her vengeful husband.

“Well, then… I accept,” he says in a tentative voice. “Though, I don’t have a thing to wear to such an event.”

“Oh, well, don’t worry about that,” Leopold insists. “A seamstress is at the castle now, fitting the queen’s dress. It’d be no trouble at all to have something altered to fit you.”

“Alright then,” Robin says with a nod as a smile tugs onto his lips as he thinks of the last ball he’d secretly attended at the end of the summer, and stolen more than a few moments with the lonely queen.  “I am looking forward to it,” he added as they started along the path toward the castle—and he truly was looking forward to spend a little time with her in her world.

_“Okay, okay, okay,” she laughs. “I think I got it, but,” she looks up at him as her bottom lip catches between her teeth. “I just want you to explain it one more time.”_

_He sighs and nods as a playful grin tugs onto his lips. “So, I will start by dealing nine cards,” he beings again, “And the objective of the game is to…”_

_“Get ten that are… alike in some way.”_

_“Yes,” he nods. “Once we both have nine cards, I’ll turn over the card on the top of the deck. You get to pick first…”_

_“Such a gentleman.”_

_He rolls his eyes and chuckles softly. “I assure you, I am no gentleman when I play cards.”_

_“That’s yet to be seen,” she retorts. “And you were a perfect gentleman the other night.”_

_“I highly doubt the man I was playing would agree.”_

_“But the woman who was sitting on your lap that evening thought you were. Though… my head is a little fuzzy…”_

_“Those memories are going to stay fuzzy…”_

_“Fuzzy or not, they’re good memories,” she says, almost shyly as she looks up at him. “Okay, so. I can pick the top card, and if I don’t want it, you can take it, right?”_

_“Right, but if you or I take it, we have to get rid of one of our other cards.”_

_“Yes,” he confirms. “And if you meld your cards…”_

_“Which is… finding ones that go together…”_

_“Yes—and if you do that, you win.”_

_“And, if I don’t?”_

_“Then I draw and we keep playing until someone wins.”_

_“Okay,” she nods, taking a short breath and quickly exhaling it. “I got it.”_

_“You want to try a practice round?”_

_Her eyebrow arches. “What would the difference be between a practice round and the real thing?”_

_“Well,” he says, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. “Normally, I play for… money or something valuable, but this time…” His eyes narrow and she laughs in anticipation. “I think we could play for something else, something… a little more fun.”_

_“Oh? And what would be more fun?”_

_“A lot of things,” he tells her as his smile grows coy and he leans forward and across the table to brush his lips over hers. “Perhaps we could each pick something we’d… enjoying doing or… having done to us?”_

_“Oh, well, this is already more fun than I anticipated,” she murmurs as she leans in and pecks his lips—and then, almost without warning, she pushing him back to his side of the table._

_“Why don’t we think about it while we a practice round, then,” she says as she offers him a wink as she settles back in her chair. “I suddenly very much want to win.”_

_For a moment, all he can do is grin at her—grin and enjoy having her with him. So much of their relationship happened in hushed, secretive moments in the dark of night, moments that almost seemed like a part of a dream. But this felt so real and it felt so right, and he wasn’t ready to let her go back the next day._

_“What?” She asks, tipping her head to the side. “Why are you looking at me like that?”_

_“Because,” he murmurs softly. “You once told me that you didn’t think you’d fit in my world—but you’re a perfect fit.”_

_Her cheeks flush as he reaches for the deck of cards to deal…_

_____

_He rolls over and reaches for her—and his hand falls into the empty space at his side. His eyes fly open and he grasps at the blankets and his heart races as he sits up and looks around the dark cottage._

_She’s not there._

_His heart beats faster and faster as his eyes continue to search, and he tells himself again and again that she’s somewhere, that she’s there and that he’s overreacting. Scrambling from the bed, he pulls on a pair of pants, swallowing hard as he reminds himself that there’s no way she’d leave without saying goodbye to him—and then, for an all too brief moment, he realizes that’s only if she had a choice in the matter and his stomach sinks._

_Opening the door, he takes a step out into the cold air—and then, he halts and a grin tugs onto his lips as his heartbeat slows._

_Regina’s sitting on the ground with her legs curled beneath her and a blanket around her shoulders. Her brow is creased and she’s concentrating on what looks like a little circle of rocks in front of her—and his grin deepens as she takes a short breath and closes her eyes as she reaches for a little vile of liquid. He watches curiously as she drizzles the liquid over the rocks and the raises her hands to hover over them as she quietly murmurs something into the air._

_Leaning against the frame of the door, he runs his hands over his arms and watches her, not wanting to disrupt her but unable to tear his eyes away from her. He loves watch her doing magic—watching the way she acts so cautiously, every move so careful and thoughtful—and he loves the look of amazement and little surge of confidence that bubbles up within her when whatever it is she’s doing works._

_With another breath, her eyes open and her cheeks flush when she spots him._

_“I didn’t mean to… interrupt.”_

_“You didn’t,” she tells him with a soft grin. “With what?”_

_“A spell,” she confesses. “A… protection spell.”_

_“You cast a protection spell on this cottage?”_

_“I don’t know if it’ll work, but…” her voice trails off and she nods. “I thought it couldn’t hurt to try.”_

_Pushing himself away from the door, he takes a few steps forward, offering her his hand and helping her up. “It’s freezing out here,” he murmurs as his arms wrap around her and his hands rub over the blanket that covers her back. “Let’s go inside and warm up.”_

_“Says the man who came outside in the middle of winter without a shirt on…”_

_“Says the man who woke up without you and was worried,” he counters._

_“Oh, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t…”_

_“No harm done,” he interjects quickly as he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her forehead. “Come on. Let’s go make some tea and crawl back into bed.”_

_“That sounds nice.”_

_“It does, doesn’t it?”_

_“And then I should… be going.”_

_He sighs, “Regina…”_

_“Please don’t say it,” she urges as they step back into the cottage. “I know you want me to stay, but I can’t.”_

_“I know,” he tells her with a nod as he closes the door. “But… it’s a standing offer, you know. You can always come here. You can always stay here. Your decision doesn’t have to be final.”_

_“That’s… um… part of why I cast the spell,” she says, as he ladles water into the kettle. “Just in case.”_

_“I like ‘just in case,’” he tells her with a wink and he grins as she looks away almost sheepishly. “What time do you need to be back?”_

_“Well, Snow and Leopold won’t be back until around noon,” she says. “But my maid will probably be up to dress me at about nine.”_

_“So nine…”_

_“A little before,” she says with a disappointed smile—that somehow manages to make his heart flutter. “But until then…”_

_“Until then,” he says, hanging the kettle over the open fire, “we can pretend that nine o’clock will never come.”_

_“Denial,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I like it.”_

_“I wouldn’t call it denial, exactly,” he tells her as his hand slips around her waist and he draws her in. “It’s more like wishful thinking.”_

_He laughs and she rolls her eyes—and whatever they’re going to call it, they decide to enjoy it._

Robin looks around as Leopold leads him through a wide, expansive room that’s decorated with evergreens and velvety white poinsettias. There are people everywhere, hanging decorations and dusting places that no one would ever see and Leopold’s voice booms as he explains the grandeur that will be the Winter Solstice Ball.

Robin smiles and nods, following along and feeling a bit lost as he swipes a few pieces of silver as Leopold start to talk about finding him something acceptable to wear, and quickly deciding that that something will be a gold-trimmed coat from his own wardrobe. Again, Robin smiles and nods and pretends to be grateful. They set off in search of the seamstress and when a maid informs him that the seamstress is with the Queen, Robin’s heart begins to flutter—and when they find them, he can’t help but smile, taken aback by how beautiful she looks.  

She’s standing on a little platform by the window and the winter sun in pouring in over her. Her back is turned to them, her shoulders are squared with her arms extended out at her sides and her chin is tipped up. There are strips of fabric pinned to a dress that’s half on and half off, and the seamstress and her maid are discussing something about how an overlay would work best. From her profile, he can see that she’s bored, staring out the window absently with a hint of a smile spread across her lips—and as he looks around, he can’t help but notice that though she’s at the center of the room, no one seems to notice her, treating her more like a doll than a person—and his smile fades away.

Blinking, he brings himself back into the moment, listening as Leopold introduces him as ‘a stranger who saved his life’. The maid and the seamstress turn their attention to the king, but Robin’s eyes remain on the queen, and he watches as her eyes sink closed and she takes a deep breath—and he can’t help but notice how much paler she looks.

 “Regina,” Leopold says, almost suddenly, as the warmth leaves his tone. “Don’t be rude to our guest.”

“Oh, the Queen is hardly being rude,” Robin cuts in, looking between them and watching as Regina’s shoulder blades tighten as a barely audible gasp escapes her. “We’ve obviously caught her in the middle of something.”

“Still…”

Slowly, she turns to face them with wide and wondering eyes, and he watches as her hands begin to tremble as she fidgets awkwardly on the platform. Her lips part as if to say something, but when her voice doesn’t come, Robin takes a step forward and fills the silence.

“Your Majesty,” he begins as he falls into a deep bow—an honor he’d never extended to the king—and he looks up at her with smiling eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Th-the pleasure is… is mine,” she stammers quietly as she nods.

“Regina,” the king says. “This man—a friend—will be staying for the Ball. I need to find him something to wear; I hope you’ll be gracious to him while I’m looking.”

“I’m sure she will be,” Robin tells him with a nod as he offers Regina a quick wink as she nods her silent agreement, and he holds her gaze and Leopold and the others disappear in search of an acceptable outfit, leaving them together and alone. He quickly turns and shuts the heavy wooden doors, then turns back to her, wrapping his arms around the back of her thighs as he lifts her from the platform and spins her around and she laughs nervously as her feet touch to the floor. “Hi,” he murmurs as a smile tugs onto his lips.

“What are _you_ doing _here_!?”

“I was invited.”

“I heard,” she tells him, swatting the back of her hand against his chest. “But the question is _why_ you were invited here.”

“I saved his life,” Robin tells her with a soft chuckle. “Just like he says.”

“You shot him, didn’t you?” She blinks. “You’re the reason he has that gash on his cheek.”

“Perhaps…”

“Robin,” she laughs. “You… you shouldn’t…”

“I didn’t like the way we left things.”

“What are you talking about? Things are fine between us.”

“They are,” he nods. “I just needed to know that you were okay. And I… I didn’t want to leave you with the impression that… I wouldn’t show up for you.”

“I asked you not to.”

“You didn’t want me to agree.”

“I didn’t,” she admits. “But I’m… I’m okay,” she tells as a little smile creeps onto her lips. “I’m really okay.”

“Then how did you get a bruise like this?” He asks, as his fingers slip over a darkened spot on her wrist and his smile fades away. “This wasn’t here this morning.”

“It wasn’t,” she admits with a nod. “He… tried to… well… do what he always does to remind me of my place.” She takes a breath and her smile brightens. “But then… then something happened.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know how to describe it, but… but…” She shakes her head. “I think you might have been right.”

“Well, I like the direction this is taking…”

“As soon as he pushed me back, there was this… this force or something that stopped him.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what it was or how to describe it, really, but… every time he came near me or touched me, it was like he was in… in physical pain.”

“Really?” Robin asks, his brow furrowing. “Has this… happened before?”

“I… I think so,” she tells him with a nod. “After that night, when I was locked away in my rooms, he… he kind of disappeared.”

“What?”

She nods, “Snow told me that he’d been sick and… I thought I was dreaming it, but… I could hear him screaming.”

“Screaming…”

“Like he was… in pain,” she confesses quietly. “Almost like… something was…”

“Torturing him?” Robin asks with a little chuckle.

“Yes,” she says, nodding again. “Exactly like that.”

“So, you don’t believe he was sick?”

“I don’t really know what I believe except for that… that maybe you’re right…” Her smile deepens and he feels his own smile tugging back onto his lips. “Maybe something is on our side.”

He nods as his hand sweeps up over her jaw and pushes into her hair as she leans up onto the tips of her toes to kiss him—and enjoy what they can of this quiet, stolen little moment together.  


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Regina spend an afternoon together at the castle; and Regina finally tells a secret she’s been hanging onto.

It’s late in the afternoon, and Robin shifts awkwardly on the platform where Regina once stood as a seamstress tugs and cinches the fabric of one of Leopold’s old coats. Robin blinks at himself, unable not to notice how foolish he looks—and then, wondering how much the gold buttons on the jacket are worth, and whether or not the gold threading on the emerald coat is actual gold, and how tedious it would be to pluck it from the fabric.

Leopold sits in an arm chair, just barely in Robin’s line of sight. Every now and then the king utters something and the seamstress complies—folding and pinning fabric to the king’s liking—and it seems to odd to be on display this way, as if he’s some sort of project and he wonders what satisfaction the king could possibly get from it. He supposes it’s a stoke his ego and is meant to be seen as benevolent—the powerful king taking an uncouth archer from the woods, cleaning him up and showing him how the civilized live—and it’s not lost on him that the flicker of discomfort he feels is a feeling that Regina has lived with, and lived with far longer than she’s lived with the king.

Glancing toward the window he looks up at the window he knows to be one that looks into Regina’s chambers, and he sighs wistfully, wishing that he could be with her. The seamstress taps his chest and shakes her head, a silent reminder that he’s not to move and should the coat fit properly, his lungs should stay deflated. He smiles softly and straightens his shoulders, his eyes drifting back to the window as he thinks of what it’ll be like to dance with her at the ball, to hold her closer to him and whisper sweet nothings to her as they glide across the floor, and he wonders if they’ll be able to sneak away from the crowd for a kiss or two… and he wonders if it’ll all back fire.

His stomach churns as the heavy door his pushes open and from the corner of his eye, he sees Regina’s maid enter the room. Leopold turns to her with an appreciative smile and he watches as she hands him a leather-bound book—a book he’s seen countless times before, a book Regina keeps at her nightstand. So many times when he’s come to her, the book has lain in her lap and there’d been a quill and inkwell on the nightstand beside her bed.

“Thank you,” Leopold murmurs as a slight chuckle rises into his voice. “Let’s see what my queen was up to while I was away

Robin’s eyebrows arch as what he and Regina have long suspected proves to be true—and he breathes out a small sigh of relief in knowing that for months—since the night the knight was hanged—Regina has been forging her entries, making things up and presenting a truth that’s anything but true.

“You disapprove,” the king says, catching his gaze from at mirror

“I… think a person’s thoughts should be private,” Robin says, offering a tight smile. “As they’re meant to be.”

“But you don’t know my queen.” Robin nods as the seamstress clicks her tongue, saving him from having to make a reply. “I know that she’s unhappy in our marriage, that she yearns to be loved in a way that I can never love her. But I never thought she’d betray me in the way that she has.” His shoulders shrug in indifference and Robin feels heat rising up the back of his neck as his jaw tightens. “She’s never quite respected her position and sometimes… she needs reminding.”

“Perhaps it isn’t a lack of respect,” Robin murmurs in an even voice, again earning a glare from the seamstress.

“It’s good of you to give her the benefit of the doubt,” Leopold tells him, as his eyes shift down to the page. “You’re a better man than I…” He blinks up at him as a grin pulls onto his lips. “Or perhaps a more naive one.”

Robin only blinks at the irony, looking back toward the window—and his breath catches as Regina steps onto her balcony. He watches as she stares out at the royal estate, and even from a distance, he can’t help but think of how sad she looks. Her arms fold around her middle—and for brief moment, he wonders. He watches as her chin tilts up and her hand moves back and forth over abdomen as the wind blows around her skirts—and despite her sadness, there’s something so stunning about her in that. “So beautiful,” he breathes out, his eyes widening at the realization that he said it aloud. 

“Yes,” Leopold says, as he rises and hands the leather-bound diary back to her maid. “You can take it back, whenever you see fit,” he tells her as he moves toward Robin. “Poinsettias always were a favorite of mine.” Robin’s head turns and he follows the king’s gaze to just above the window, and he realizes that Leopold is under the impression the thing he thought was beautiful was the poinsettia garlands that hang above the curtains.  “We grow them here,” he says, completely unaware that Robin hadn’t even noticed the garland, “Such a lovely flower.”

“I’d… love to see them,” he murmurs.

“Oh, I wish I’d the time to show them to you!” Robin nods, ready to say that perhaps he could see them another time; but then, Leopold turns to Regina’s maid and a smile edges onto his lips. “Perhaps the queen could show them to you. It’d give her something useful to do, something other than sulking about her chambers.”

Robin’s eyebrows arch—and it’s just too easy. “Yes, that would be… wonderful.”

“Go and fetch her,” he says to the maid. Though the mirror, Robin watches as she tucks the diary back into her dress and she nods, curtseying as she leaves. He can hear her shoes clicking as she runs up the stairs, and Leopold launches into a dull story about potting soil and appropriate amounts of sunlight and his gardener—and Robin pretends to listen.

He turns his head as the door opens and Regina steps into the room, and her eyes immediately turn to him.

“Regina,” Leopold says, his voice disinterested and not looking at her as he speaks. “Our guest would like to see the poinsettia garden. Won’t you show him?”

“You… want me to take him to the garden?”

“Yes,” he says, still not looking in her direction. “That is what is I said, is it not?”

Robin feels his jaw tighten and he takes a breath, reminding himself not to give them away by reacting. “I promise to be no trouble,” he cuts in, looking toward Regina. “And I promise not to take up too much of your time.”

A small smile edges onto her lips, but Leopold’s voice beats hers. “Too much of her time?” He laughs out. “Oh, you are too kind. All she has is time.”

The seamstress pulls the coat from his shoulders and tells him that he can step down, and Leopold thanks him for being a good sport about the fittings, then urges them out of the room—and only a few minutes later, they’re walking together toward the garden.

“Who would have thought,” Robin begins with a soft laugh, mindful to keep his voice low, “That your husband would be pushing you to spend time with your boyfriend.”

“That’s not funny,” she murmurs back. “Do you know how easy it would be to…” Her voice halts and she sighs. “I’m sorry… I’m glad that you’re here. I just…”

“It’s dangerous, I know.” He grins, “But… relax a little. I’ve got this under control.”

“Those sound like famous last words.”

“You forget that this is what I do—I hoodwink people and steal their most prized possessions.”

A smirk tugs across her lips. “Are you planning to make off with the silver?”

“No,” he says, chuckling softly as his blue eyes sparkle. “I’ve got my eye on a much bigger prize.” Shaking her head, she laughs and she can’t help but smile as she glances over at him—and from the corner of her, she sees his expression change. “It’s good to see you smile,” he confesses in a low voice, a confession that makes her cheeks flush.

They turn into the garden and Regina peeks around the corner, craning her neck in search of the gardener. When they pass a hedge, she reaches for his hand, tugging him around it and when she sees the gardener’s little house with a smoke wafting up from the chimney, she brightens. “There’s… something I’d actually like to show you,” she says, tugging him in the opposite direction.

He laughs as he follows, letting her drag him around the hedges through a winding mace until she stops. She watches as he blinks, looking around them—taking in the circle of tall topiaries surrounding them and the little crescent shape stone bench atop a heap of mulch. A smile pulls onto his lips as he looks back at her, at the realization that not only are they alone, but completely concealed at the center of the garden.

“We’re alone.”

“Yes,” she nods. “Finally.”

He steps forward and his hands slide over her hips. “You’re okay? He didn’t…”

“He tried,” she says in a hushed voice as her eyes sink closed for a moment. “But, he didn’t.”

“What happened?”

She looks up at him, watching the way his jaw tense and the hardness of his eyes and she can’t help but notice his hold on her has tightened. “I… don’t know, actually.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, tipping his head curiously as she steps back, leading him to the bench—and she smiles as he chuckles when she sits down to the mulch instead of sitting on the bench. He sits down beside her and pulls her legs over his lap as his arm stretches around her shoulders. “So tell me what you do know, then,” he tells her as his hands rub over her arms.

“It was strange,” she murmurs. “I was… standing in the window, watching them arrive and…” She looks up at him. “My father got out of the carriage when he looked at Leopold, the color drained from his face and he looked… absolutely terrified, like he was looking at some sort of demon instead of my docile, appeasing father.”

“That is strange…”

“And, I wondered if… what you said has some truth behind it.”

“You think your father might be… trying to protect you?”

“Maybe?” She sighs. “It wouldn’t be like him to stand up to a king, but…” She looks up at him. “It was just so bizarre. In that moment, it was like he was… someone else.”

“Then what happened?”

“What always happens…” Her voice trails off as she takes a breath. “He was furious with me for refusing to go with them, refusing to put on some sort of show and sell something that was a complete fabrication.” A little smile edges onto her lips. “It worked though.”

“Snow isn’t engaged.”

“No,” she says, a hint of triumph in her voice. “I… wrote to the Queen, explaining my absence and… she agreed that they’re just too young, that they’re not bargaining chips that can be gambled away for the sake of gaining power.”

“I’m glad…” He presses a kiss to her hair and takes a breath. “Then what happened.”

“He… tried to do what he always does when I’ve done something that angers him and he needs to… remind me of my place.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No,” she tells him, shaking her head. “I… fought back, but it wasn’t enough.”

“Oh, love…”

She cuddles closer. “I called him impotent.”

“If only we could be so lucky.”

“I don’t even know why I said it, really,” she admits in quiet voice. “I just…”

“Couldn’t take it anymore?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “Maybe.” Pulling her head up, she looks at him as she continues. “But then, something happened. He shoved me back and, I… knew what was about to happen, but before it could he stopped.” A small smile pulls onto her lips. “He was suddenly screaming in pain and looking at me like… like I was causing it.”

“But you weren’t.”

“No,” she tells him, shaking her head. “And every time he tried to touch me… he screamed out.”

“Like something or someone was holding him back…”

“Yes,” she nods. “He was… in pain. And then, he left… presumably to make it stop.”

Robin nods and his arms wrap tighter around her as her head lies on his shoulder. “I should have let that arrow hit his heart,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, Regina.”

“Don’t apologize,” she’s quick to say. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him. As much as I hate him, I… don’t want you be the one responsible for his death.”

“I’d be happy to live with that burden…”

“But you’d always have a mark on you, and… I couldn’t live with myself for putting on you.”

“Regina…”

“Can we not have this discussion again?” She interjects, pulling her head up from his shoulder. “Can we just… enjoy the fact that we’re together now and… worry about the rest of it later?” Nuzzling closer she takes a breath. “Can we… talk about something else?”

“Sure,” he says with a nod, again rubbing his hands over her arms before one had slips into her cloak and over her stomach. “Are you cold?”

Pulling back slightly, she grins—and then her eyes sink closed. Holding out one of her hands, she balls her fingers into a fist, slowly opening her hand as small little ball of fire forms at her palm. Opening her eyes, she grins up at him, gently tossing the fireball in front of them and laughing as his eyes widen and the fireball hovers. “Not anymore.”

Gently, he pushes her head back to his shoulder, stoking his hand over her hair. “You’re really okay?”

“I am,” she tells him. “Especially now that you’re here.”

He chuckles softly and cuddles her closer. “So, what should we talk about?”

“Oh,” she murmurs. “I… I think I’d like to hear the more detailed version of how you ended up with an invitation to the Winter Solstice Ball.” She laughs a little as her eyes turn upward. “Specifically the part where the king got that nasty gash that’s on his cheek.”

Robin kisses the top of her head—and then, begins the story.

_____

After the poinsettia garden “tour”, they return to the castle with rosy cheeks and soft smiles—and almost immediately, Regina is ushered in one direction by her maid, who chastises her for staying out so long, despite that it was at the king’s request, and Robin is pulled by a valet in the other direction so that he can be dressed for the ball.

When all is said and done, her maid leaves her until her presence is requested—and she sighs in boredom, hating this part. She moves to the mirror, looking herself over and examining her newly refurbished dress. The soft green fabric is pretty enough and one of the softer dresses she owns and the lace bodice is less stuff than the previous—but the corset beneath it is too tight, and no matter what, she always finds herself forgetting not too take too deep of breaths. Catching her lip between her teeth, she turns to the side, narrowing her eyes as she examines herself. Her hand falls over her stomach and her eyes sink closed—and a shaky breath escapes her.

Opening her eyes, she turns away from the mirror, not wanting to look, not wanting to notice some detail that wasn’t there before, and to allow herself to pretend for just a little longer. Her eyes catch the clock atop her mantle and she goes to the window, staring out at the estate as her thoughts drift to Robin. A smile tugs onto her lips as she thinks about their afternoon in the garden, surrounded by poinsettias and the warmth of the fire—and for a few brief moments, it was like they were tucked away in his cottage again, blissfully secluded from the rest of the world.

She moves toward the bookshelf, pulling it open and stepping into the darkened tunnel. She’s not sure where Robin’s room is in the castle, but she knows the general direction and her stomach flutters at the idea of surprising him. Slowly and cautiously, she steps through the dimly lit tunnels, feeling her way against the wall and careful not to dirty her dress. Her brow furrows as she turns a corner, first noticing a steady stream of light and then noticing the voices—one of which belongs to her father.

Taking a few step closer, she tries to listen, but can’t make out the words—and again, she leans closer. Whomever her father is talking to, he’s arguing with—and there’s something so familiar about it.

“What are you listening to?” A voice comes, causing her heart to leap and her breath to catch in her the back of her throat as she whirls around to see Snow standing in only a few feet away. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“And what did you think would happen when you crept up behind me in a dark tunnel?” Snow’s shoulders shrug and before she can reply, Regina’s eyes narrow. “What are you doing in the dark tunnels anyway?”

“I… I’m following my favorite escape route.”

“You’re going somewhere?”

“Can you keep a secret?” Snow asks, her hazel eyes widening. “Please?”

“I have the strangest sense of déjà vu,” Regina murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest as a slight grin stretches over her lips. “And does this secret explain why you’re in the tunnels?”

“Yes,” Snow says, her smile brightening. “I… met a boy.”

“A boy,” Regina repeats. “And you think you’re going to sneak out to meet him?” Her eyes widen as Snow giggles and suddenly, Regina laughs. “Well, you are very wrong about that. You’re not going anywhere.”

“It’s perfectly innocent.”

“You think it’s innocent…”

“We just… wanted see each other, to talk and ride our horses and…”

“Unsupervised?”

“Well, it’s not like my father would ever allow it. He’s a commoner, a farm boy from the village.” Regina’s expression softens as she thinks of Daniel and the moments they’d stolen together as their friendship had blossomed into love. “His name is David.”

“You’re smitten.”

“Yes.”

Regina sighs, “And you’ve done this before.”

Snow offers a guilty little smile. “I’ll be back before the ball, I promise.”

For a moment, they just stare at each other—and for a moment, Regina can’t believe just how similar their stories are. She offers a little nod and steps aside. “As long as you’re back in time, I… see no reason that anyone needs to know.” As the last syllable falls from her lips, Snow throws her arms around her and the scurries off—and when Regina turns back to her father’s door, the light is gone and the voices have stopped.

Taking a few steps forward, pressing her ear to the door but again, she hears nothing. She sighs in disappointment as she continues wandering down the tunnel, and eventually, she spots another room and another light, and this time she hears Robin’s voice. She hovers at the behind the bookshelf for few minutes to ensure that he’s alone, and when she’s convinced, she pushes it open.

Robin turns at the sound, a smile instantly pulling onto his lips as her head pokes into the room.

“You look awfully handsome,” she says, sliding shelf back into place as her eyes linger over him and the coat that was tailored to fit him that afternoon. “You clean up nicely.”

“I look like a fool.”

“A handsome fool,” she tells him, leaning up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “We’ve got a little time before we’re called down for dinner, so I thought…” She shrugs. “We could pass the time together instead of alone.”

“Together is always nice.”

“Yes…”

She watches as he takes a step back, looking her up and down, his eyes lingering as his head tips to the side. “Are you feeling alright? You look pale.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, “I just… it’s the powder I have to wear to these things. I think the objective is to make me look like some sort of porcelain doll.”

“Ah.”

“And probably, in part, the fact that I can’t take a breath without feeling I’ll cough up a lung.”

“Now there’s an image,” he says, chuckling softly. “Can we… loosen that thing?”

“No,” she says in a regretful voice. “The dress won’t fit if I don’t wear it.”

“I… obviously know nothing about women’s fashion—I hardly know anything about men’s fashion, for that matter—but couldn’t that seamstress do something about that, to make things more comfortable?”

“She would have to want to,” Regina murmurs. “And I would have to…” She stops and shrugs, not really knowing how to answer, not ready to admit the dress had already been let out once or the reason that was. “We match,” she says, her voice abrupt as a grin pulls onto her lips. “The trim on the coat is the same fabric that my dress is made from.”

“Look at that,” he says with a little laugh. “It’s almost like someone is trying to tell us something.” Leaning in, he kisses her cheek and her cheeks flush a little as he nuzzles his cheek against hers. “Do you think I’ll be able to steal a dance with the queen tonight?”

“Steal a dance?” She asks, a soft chuckle behind her words. “Dances with the queen aren’t exactly a hot commodity at these sorts of things, but… perhaps.”

“Perhaps, then, I should steal a dance now,” he tells her, as his hand sweeps against the small of her back, pulling her flush against his chest as he holds out her arm and folds his fingers down around hers. She blinks up at him with wide eyes and a smile as a memory of their afternoon together in the stable flashes, and she remembers dancing with him in the rain. “Do you remember how it goes?”

“I think so.”

“Well, if you don’t,” he begins as his smile brightens. “You can always step up onto my feet.”

She rolls her eyes and almost immediately stumbles over his feet, and sigh. Leaning in he presses a kiss to her forehead, gracefully taking a step back. “It’s probably a good thing we’re doing this privately,” she murmurs with a sigh, following his lead as he turns her. “I’d make a fool of both of us.”

“I’d love to be made a fool of,” he tells her, offering her a wink as he leans in. “Can I confess something?”

“Of course…”

“Do you know what I’m most looking forward to about tonight?”

“No,” she murmurs softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Tell me.”

“Breaking you out of that dress.”

She laughs out and shakes her head, as Robin continues to glide across the floor and pull her along with him. “Me too,” she confesses, “But likely for a completely different reason.”

Robin laughs and pulls her closer, before pushing her out at an arm’s length—she smiles, still laughing as he pulls her back to him, as they continue to waltz through the open space of his room and she continues to stumble over his feet.

_____

Candle light and soft, velvety poinsettias line the ballroom, and from her place at the head table, she watches Robin chatting with a nobleman from a nearby village. A smile pulls onto her lips and she wonders what he’s talking about, wondering if he’s trying to swindle him or just trying to keep the boredom at bay. A cellist play through the feast—and a grin tugs onto her lips when she notices the pocket watch that had been hanging from the nobleman’s waistcoat is now missing, unbeknownst to him.

The feast finishes and Leopold begins the dancing by offering his hand to Snow—and Regina watches as a smile that looks like one of forgiveness stretches across the girl’s lips, and she feels a little pang of something she can’t quite place as she wonders if she’s lost an ally. The music picks up and after the king and princess twirl around the dance floor a few times, others begin to join. Some dance and others get up to mingle, and when she looks up, Robin’s eyes are on her. He smiles softly and offers her a wink, and she feels her cheeks warm. Rising from his seat, he moves toward the throne where Leopold is sitting, beaming as he watches Snow dance with a young man who wears a prince’s crown. Her eyes narrow as she focuses on the boy—a boy who looks like Prince James, but how different—but her attentions soon shifts back to Robin as he approaches the king.

They stay together for awhile and she can’t help but stare, watching the way they talk and laugh as Leopold tells the story of their meeting in the woods earlier than day. Leopold’s voice booms and Robin plays the part well, for an all too brief moment, she feels a flicker of envy as Leopold’s hand falls over Robin’s back in a show of kindness that’s never once been bestowed to her. Robin offers her a wink as a new story begins and she can’t help but notice the softness in Leopold’s eyes as he listens to it and the way smile pull onto the lips of listeners. Robin places both hands over his heart as his smile brightens, and though she can’t quite hear what he’s saying, she knows he’s telling the story he told Leopold about his alleged star-crossed love in a nearby village, and no one seems to catch the way his eyes shift to her or the way he smiles in her direction, no one realizing his star-crossed love is only a few yards away.

Her head tips to the side as she watches Leopold gesture in her direction, and Robin feigns surprise. He shakes head, but Leopold seems to insist. He excuses them, leading Robin in her direction and she feels the strangest sense of pride in knowing that Robin’s managed to pool the wool over his eyes, slyly paying the part of the doting subject and playing the king, making him believe the tall tale he’s spun. Her stomach flutters as Leopold and Robin near, and she knows she’s not as good of an actor as Robin and she fears blowing their fragile cover.

“Regina,” Leopold’s voice booms. “Since you’re not dancing,” he begins as if her not dancing was some sort of rarity. “Our guest would like to practice his waltz.”

“You… want me to dance with… him?”

“Yes,” he says, practically scoffing at the question. “He needs to learn, and how rude it would be to deny the request of our guest.”

Regina blinks and for a moment, she feels her shoulders tense at the reminder that after years of marriage, he still doesn’t know her at all, that he never bothered to learn any of the details that made up who she was, never cared enough to pay attention to things that should have been obvious. And then as her eyes shift to Robin, she feels her shoulders relax at the realization that it no longer matters what the king thinks of her.

“Oh… well…,” she murmurs, taking a breath, “If it’ll make him happy, I suppose I could… spare a dance.”

“I’d like nothing more than to have a dance with my Queen,” Robin says. “I would consider it an honor.”

Robin holds out his hand to her, and slowly she places her hand in his. Her chest constricts as he leads her out to the dance floor, and for a moment, neither of them says anything. Robin’s hand slides to the small of her back as his shoulders square and as his fingers fold down around hers, her mouth goes dry. She can feel eyes on them as guest stare at the strange man dancing with the queen, and she does her best to concentrate on the steps he taught her. They make their way around the dance floor, and when she finally allows her eyes to meet his, she feels a little flutter of excitement.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” he says in a low voice. “My toes would like to thank you.”

“Everyone’s watching…”

“I know…”

“One misstep and…”

“And it’ll appear that you are kindly dancing with a man who doesn’t know what he’s doing.” She grins and nods as they continue to glide across the floor. “You know, you’ve spent so much time worrying about not fitting into my world, or into my life, I don’t think you ever considered that perhaps I could fit into yours.” He grins. “That I could get into the good graces of the king, that we could have more than stolen moments in the dead of night…”

“That sounds… so dangerous.”

“This doesn’t feel dangerous.”

“No,” she agrees. “It doesn’t.”

“Because if those days we spent together at the cottage proved anything to me, it proved that we can’t go on the way we’ve been going on.” A small smile edges onto his lips. “We’ve spent so much time worried about fitting one another into our existing lives, we never considered an alternative.”

“An alternative…”

“Yes.”

“It sounds like you have a plan.”

“I have… the beginnings of one,” he tells her as his smile brightens. “Perhaps after our dance, we could sneak away and I could tell you about it.”

“We’d never be able to leave together unnoticed,” she says, her eyes shifting away from him and into the crowded room. “Not after this dance.”

“No,” he agrees with a slight nod. “You go first. I’ll follow after a few minutes.”

“What about Leopold? He’ll notice if we both…”

A smirk edges onto Robin’s lips. “In a half an hour, he won’t be noticing much of anything.” He laughs a little as her eyes widen with curiosity. “In a half an hour, he’ll be acting like a complete ass, and I can guarantee that’s all anyone is going to notice.”

“You drugged him?”

“Not yet,” he confesses.

“You’re terrible and,” she laughs and shakes her head. “And I love you for it.”

He grins as she spins her out and then pulls her back to him, holding her just a little bit closer.

_____

“These buttons are impossible,” Robin says, his fingers fumble at the back of Regina’s dress. “It’s like you’re bloody sewn into this thing.”

Turning her head, Regina looks back over her shoulder. “They’re meant to be undone by slender fingers,” she tells him, offering a little laugh as she nods toward the wardrobe. “There’s a button hook in there.”

“A button hook?”

“Yes, it’s a little hook that undoes small or tight buttons.”

He blinks up at her as he moves around her and toward the wardrobe. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“No,” she says, chuckling softly. “I just… like the way your hands feel on me.”

A grin tugs onto his lips as he finds the button hook. “But wouldn’t they feel better… without the dress.”

She smiles and her lip catches between her teeth. “I don’t know, but I think I’d like to compare.”

He moves behind her, weaving the button hook through the button holes on her dress as his lips find her neck. Her eye close as his lips flutter and when she feels his hands slide into her dress, pushing against her sides and down to her hips where her corset ends. She breathes out a content sigh of relief as he loosens the corset, and then she turns to him, the heavy fabric falling away from her body as her arms link around his neck.

He lifts her, his hands sliding up over the thin muslin that covers her, and her legs wrap around his hips. Her lips settle at the crook of his neck, and all she wants to do is shut out the rest of the world and lose herself in him.

Robin lays her back on the bed, placing his knee at her side he pulls his shirt from his pants. She grins as she lifts her head, her lips brushing over his as hand slides to the back of his neck to draw him closer—and then, he stops, pulling himself up and offering her a regretful little sigh.

“Is… something wrong?” She asks in a breathless voice as she pulls herself up onto her elbows.

“No,” he’s quick to say. “I just… I didn’t anticipate being here, so I didn’t bring anything…”

“Ah…” she murmurs as her eyes fall away from him as her stomach sinks.

“Of course, there are other things we could do…”

“Yes,” she nods as she tries to muster a smile, unsure of how many opportunities she can pretend she doesn’t have and knowing she can’t keep up the ruse much longer. “There are.”

“Regina,” he says, his head tipping to the side. “Are you… okay?”

“Of course I am.”

“You… just looked like you were a million miles away from me.”

“Oh, I was just…”

“And it’s not the first time that’s happened.”

“Today’s just been…”

“Not just today,” he interjects in a voice that’s suddenly serious and full of concern. She pulls herself up so that she’s sitting beside him, and she watches as his eyes fall to her hands—and it’s only then that she realize they’re trembling. He reaches out slowly, covering her hands with his and giving them a little squeeze in an effort to stabilize hem and to give her some sort of comfort. “I noticed it at the cottage, and a few times before that when we together.” For a moment, his voice fades and his eyes search hers—and she knows that she can’t hold onto her secret forever, that she won’t be able to ignore it for much longer. “Regina,” he says again. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“I… know,” she murmurs, nodding as her eyes meet his. “But once I say it, it’s out there and I can’t ignore it… and neither can you.”

“Tell me,” he says again, and she can see that he’s fearing the words she’s yet to say, spinning worst-case scenarios as his shoulder rise and fall with each labored breath.

Nodding, she lets out a shallow breath of her own and her eyes sink closed, not wanting to face him and not wanting to see the realization register in his eyes, still not knowing that this will likely mark the beginning of the end. “I didn’t really know how I was going to tell you, and there were so many times over the past few days when I started to tell you. I just… didn’t know how and… if I’m being honest, I didn’t want to tell you.” Slowly, her eyes open. “Robin, I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant,” he repeats, blinking a few times as her words register and she feels hot tears brimming in her eyes.” How… long have you known?”

“Not long,” she admits. “I didn’t… pick up on most of the earliest signs. I… didn’t want to.”

“But you’re sure?”

“Yes…”

He lets out a sigh and a soft smile tugs onto his lips as he gives her hand a tight little squeeze. “I thought you might be.”

Her eyes widen and her heart beat skips. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“Oh, love,” he murmurs, shaking his head as his hand brushes over her cheek. “I assumed that if you were, you’d tell me when you decided what you wanted to do about it. I didn’t want to pressure you into doing what you thought I wanted. This is your decision.”

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

“What you want is the _only_ thing that matters.”

She looks up at him. “Would you hate me if the child was yours and I… got rid of it?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head in a voice that’s oddly calm. “I wouldn’t hate you.”

“And if it was Leopold’s, and I wanted to keep it… would you hate me then?”

“I could never hate you, Regina,” he says. His hand slides from her cheek to her neck and then to her shoulders as he slides a little closer. “So, tell me. What do you want to do about this?”

“I… think I… I…” She stops has her voice falters. “I want it.”

A small grin stretches over his lips and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Pulling back, his forehead touches to hers. Her eyes press closed and she reaches up to hold onto his wrist, and she wills herself not to cry. “I’m glad,” he murmurs softly. “I’m so glad.”

“Are you?” She asks as she takes a breath, pulling back to look at him. “Because you haven’t even asked me who the father is.”

His smile tightens and he nods. “It’s… not me, is it?”

“No.”

“Can you really be sure?”

Her eyes press closed, forcing out her tears that she’s been trying to fight, and she nods.  “We’ve been so careful,” she begins in a hushed voice. “And, we weren’t… um… intimate for awhile,” she says as her eyes open. “You remember.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, undoubtedly remembering the night he’d found her—alone in her bedchambers, bloody lipped and sobbing. “Oh, love…”

“I’m sor…”

“Don’t,” he cuts in before the last syllable can leave her lips. “Don’t apologize, Regina.”

“I should have told you.”

“You’re telling me now.”

“But…” Her voice trails off as she looks up at him with teary eyes. “But this… changes everything.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “It does change everything.”

Wringing her hands in her lap, she nods—and her heart sinks. In all the ways she saw their love affair ending, it never ended quite like this. “This is why I couldn’t tell…”

“Regina, we have to leave.”

“What?” She asks, her eyes widening as she looks up at him. “Leave?”

“You can’t stay here,” he says in a voice that’s soft yet full of conviction. “You said it yourself, you can’t raise a child with him. And…” His voice hitches in his throat. “If you have a son and you give him an heir, Regina… what does that mean for you and your position at court?”

“Oh,” she murmurs quietly as she considers it. “I would… become expendable.”

“I’ve seen the way he treats you, the way he dismisses you and…” He shakes his head. “Regina, I told myself when all of this started that I’d wouldn’t be another person who came into your life and made demands, that’d I’d let you make your own choices and I’d respect them, even if I disagreed. But, Regina, you _cannot_ stay here and… I can’t leave you.”

 

“I know I can’t,” she whispers, swallowing hard as she considers what her fate would be without any purpose left in her husband’s eyes. “But, I can’t ask you to raise another man’s child.”

“And what if I were to offer?”

She softens a bit, smiling sadly as her hand slides over his. “Suppose this child is born with Leopold’s eyes. You honestly can say you wouldn’t think of him every time you look at that child?”

“If this child is born with Leopold’s eyes, then…” His smile deepens as he turns her hand over into his and gives it a light squeeze. “All that will mean is that _our_ first child has hazel eyes.”

“Our child,” she repeats, her breath catching in her lungs. “You really think you can love the child of a man you despise?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he confesses as her eyes fall away from his. “But I know that I could love _your_ child.”

Her jaw saw starts to tremble as tears spill down her cheeks, and she feels a rush of emotion. “We’ve… never talked about this…” she murmurs, batting the back of her fingers over her tear stained cheeks. “Do you even want children?”

“I do,” he nods.

“You never told me that.”

“It seemed unfair, given the circumstances.”

“Right,” she says, nodding and exhaling a long breath. “You’re… sure about this?”

“Positive.”

“Because… if I agree to this… if I agree to leave here and start a new life somewhere else… there’s no turning back.” A small grin tugs up from the corner of her mouth. “You’ll be stuck with…”

“Don’t,” he cuts in, his smile brightening as his fingers touch to her lips. “Don’t you even dare suggest that I’m _stuck_.”

She smiles a little and nods. “And the rest of it….?” She shrugs. “You know we can never… properly marry. We’ll be outlaws and…” Her voice trails off as her eyes sink closed. “And then there’s Rumplestilskin to worry about.”

“You said it yourself that that imp hasn’t been as interested in you, that he teased that he’s found another apprentice.” Robin squeezes her hand and she looks up at him. “And titles or what we call each other… well… that’s completely irrelevant.” Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll be together, and that’s all matters.”

She nods and with a shaky breath, she stands but clutches tighter to his hand. “Then, I suppose… I should get dressed and… we should go.”

“Yeah,” he nods as a bright smile stretches across his face. “Let’s go home.”

“Home,” she repeats as rises from the bed. “That sounds… wonderful.”

Robin’s hand slips over her hip and he draws her in, leaning in and kissing her softly. “Yes,” he agrees. “It does.”

Less than an hour later, she’s dressed and a bag full of personal items is packed. She leaves a letter on her bed addressed to her father—vague in detail, but enough to let him know that she’s as safe as she can be. The Winter Solstice Ball is still in full swing as they leave, so it’s easy enough to slip out unnoticed—and then together they ride off into the woods, and toward their new life.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of glimpses into Robin and Regina’s life after running away together.
> 
> A character death occurs; though, I wouldn't call it a "major character."

A smile draws onto Robin’s lips as he comes out of the back room and Regina catches his eye. She’s standing at the bar, wiping it down as she talks to one of the bar maids—smiling and laughing at their conversation as her free hand rubs absently over the swell of her stomach. Her hair is swept back with a ribbon and loose curls fall over her shoulder; and her cheeks are slightly pink and flushed—in the candlelit room, she looks so beautiful. He can’t say that he’s ever taken her for granted, but still, there are moments when it strikes him how lucky he is to have her—to love her and be loved by her, to have the chance to build a life with her.

“You don’t have to do that,” he murmurs, coming up behind her and pressing a quick kiss to her jaw as his arms form around her as the bar maid turns to take a drink order at a nearby table. “In fact, I’d prefer you not...”

“I need to earn my keep,” she tells him as a grin tugs onto her lips.

“You hardly need to _earn_ it.”

“Fine,” she sighs, leaning back into him. “Then, can you just accept that I want to do it?”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Yes,” she nods, “Which is not the same thing as being incapacitated.”

“I’m just… a little uncomfortable with my pregnant girlfriend doing physical labor. You should be resting.”

“It’s not like I’m on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor,” she tells him in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Besides, it keeps my boredom at bay.”  

“Still,” he sighs. “You’re due in…”

“A little more than a month,” she says, turning out of his arms and reaching for a tray of empty glasses. “It’s fine. And, if you can’t accept that I want to help, then accept that it keeps my mind off of the fact that this baby has been doing somersaults for the last hour and a half, and it’s making me vaguely nauseous.”

He chuckles softly, again leaning in—but as his lips brush over hers, there’s a loud sigh from the bar maid she’d been talking to and a chuckle from Little John. “Honestly, Robin, when are you going to marry her?”

“I don’t think that’s anyone’s business.”

“You’re crazy in love with her, she’s carrying your baby and… my god, just look at the two of you, why wouldn’t you marry her?”

Little John laughs and shakes his head. “She’s only saying that because she was dumped. Again.”

The bar maid’s eyes roll and Little John’s laugh grows louder as Regina offers Robin a little wink, turning away from him as she carries the tray back to the bar. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date with your fairy?” 

“Later,” Little John replies, a grin tugging onto her lips. “And Tink and I will be staying in for our date.”

Robin laughs as his eyes again fall to Regina from where she stands behind the bar. For months, they’ve been going through a similar routine—spending their early afternoons at the tavern during the mid-day rush and into the lull that follows it. The first few times he brought her to the tavern, they’d worried about someone recognizing her—but no one had. The type of people who frequented his tavern in the middle of the day weren’t the sort who spent time at court; and even then, appearances of Leopold’s queen had always been far and few between. In her days as queen, she’d mostly been confined to the castle walls and royal grounds; she hadn’t lived a life in the spot light. When people did see her, it was usually from a distance or from a carriage—and then, she’d been done up in elaborate dresses and hairstyles, adorned with jewelry and a tiara, looking so different than she did now. The only patrons who stood a chance of noticing the former queen, were the knights who came in late and long after sundown—and by then, he and Regina were nestled away in their cottage mile or so down the road, away from prying eyes. Though they knew hiding in plain sight would be dangerous, leaving her at the cottage was never an option, so they did the best they could and hoped it would work out.

And, for the most part, it did.

In the daylight hours, she hid her fears well—but at night, she was set on edge by the sound of the wind, flinching at every little noise. Robin would wrap his arms around her and pull her close, reminding her again and again that she was safe and he’d protect her and the child she was carrying. She’d nod and cuddle closer as her eyes sunk closed, willing herself to believe him, but not quite able to.

“I think it’s time for us to get out of here,” he says, looking out at the dusky sky and grinning in her direction. “Unless we want to stay and watch Little John make a fool of himself, fawning all over Tink.”

“I think he’ll be just fine,” Regina says, shaking her head as she laughs a little. “And… I am getting a little tired.”

Reaching for her hand, he tugs her to him and his arm slides around her waist. They say their goodbyes, and she grabs her bag on the way out—making a joke about how it’d taken her five months to make a pair of booties, and if she lost track of her bag of yarn now, their child would be celebrating his second birthday before she was able to finish knitting him another pair.

“You keep doing that,” he says as her fingers lace down through his. “Calling the baby _him_.”

“I know,” she says a soft chuckle behind her words. “I’m pretty convinced I’m carrying a boy.”

“And why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s just a feeling.”

“Ah, mother’s intuition?”

“Maybe.” 

“Perhaps then, we should start talking about names…”

Regina sighs. “It would be nice to call him something other than _it_ , I suppose.”

“Or call _her_ something other than it.”

“I’m having a boy.”

“You can’t be sure of it—intuition or not.”

A smile pulls onto her lips as they wind down the wooded path to the cottage. “Do you… want it to be a girl?”

Robin shrugs his shoulders, but a grin edges onto his lips. “I wouldn’t mind either.”

“But you want a girl just a little bit more.”

“No…”

“Then why do you keep insisting the baby’s a girl?”

He laughs out and shakes his head, “Why do you keep insisting it’s a boy?”

“Because it _is_ a boy.”

Robin sighs and shakes his head, and he tugs her into his side. “I suppose only time will tell and… we can always try again for that boy you want so desperately.”

Regina laughs as her head falls to his arm as they walk the rest of the way, tossing out possible baby names—and nixing each suggestion the other makes on the account that the name is for the opposite sex of the child. When they get to the cottage, he unlocks the door, pushing it open and allowing her in first. She offers a content sigh as she lights a few candles to brighten the room—and he watches as she moves toward the wardrobe, selecting her night dress.

She changes quickly then eases herself back onto the bed, smiling over at him as he sits down beside her. “You should nap,” he says, looking at her. “I’ll start heating dinner while you do.”

“No…”

“No nap? You said yourself that you’re tired.”

“No,” she says again, this time turning her head toward him. “Lay with me for awhile.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, scooting down beside her on their bed. “I think that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He rolls onto his side and his hand slides over her stomach. He watches the way her eyes fall to his hand and he watches the smile that tugs onto her lips, he takes a breath—and then laughs out as the baby kicks at his hand. Regina laughs out as he flinches. “I will never be used to how amazing that is.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly as a little elbow jabs at his hand. “It is pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“It’s like you’re made of jelly.”

He laughs as her face scrunches. “That’s… a disturbing imagine,” she begins, looking back at him. “But I am partially convinced that this baby won’t come the traditional way. He’s simply going to kick and punch through me.”

“ _Her_ way…”

“Here we go again,” she says, rolling her eyes as he laughs again—and then, when he looks back at her, she’s suddenly serious. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

Nodding she takes a breath. “Does it bother you, the way people are always chiding you about us not being married?”

“No,” he answers without a beat. “I love you and you love me, and we’re happy… and… that’s enough.”

“Enough…”

“Regina,” he cuts in. “They don’t know the full story, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t think us being married would change anything between us.” A smile draws onto his lips.  “Are you happy?”

“I am.”

“I am, too,” he says, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Now, close your eyes for a little while.” She smiles and nods, and he too closes his eyes. His hand rubs absently over her stomach, smiling every time the child kicks or turns, and the last thing he thinks before drifting off is how glad he is to have them…

_____

He’s vaguely aware of her breath catching and his eyes flutter open. She sits up as her eyes grow wide and she looks toward the open window, letting out a shaky breath. Pulling himself up his arm circles around her—and when she looks at him, her eyes are full of terror.

“Did you hear that?”

“It was just the…” And then he hears a horse neigh. Swallowing hard, he takes a breath, listening as the sound of hooves grows closer—and then he hears a shouting in the distance. He can’t make out the words but there are multiple voices accompanied by multiple horses, and his stomach sinks. Regina sucks in a breath as she turns to look at him, and leaning in, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Stay here.”

“But…”

“Regina. Stay here,” he says, trying his best to keep his voice even. “I’ll be right back.”

She nods as her hand falls to her stomach, almost as if to protect it. He blows out the candles before opening the door and slipping outside as he grabs his bow and quiver. He blinks a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He draws out an arrow, placing it in the bow, watching as the torches near—torches carried by knights on horseback bearing Leopold’s crest. He lets out a shallow breath, looking nervously back into the cottage and he takes a few steps forward as if to put more distance between Regina and the knights, wondering if it’s even possible for him to ward them off on his own.

From that point, everything happens so quickly—he shoots the arrow and he doesn’t miss, but before he can draw another his hands are bounded behind him. He’s shoves back despite knowing that he’s more than outnumbered—and then he sees the king’s carriage drawing closer. A chill runs down his spine as Leopold gets out—and no sooner than he does, four knights push him back against the side of the cottage. They bind his hands with a rope and the king smiles, almost sadly as he steps toward him, and still, Robin struggles against the knights.

Leopold’s eyes narrow as he stares him in face. “I trusted you,” the king says. “And this is how you repay my kindness? By stealing my queen?”

For a moment, he stops fighting and he looks Leopold in the eye. “I didn’t steal the queen,” he says, shaking his head. “She was never yours.” A small smile edges onto his lips as Leopold’s jaw tightens. “And she’s not mine, either. She’s her own person—her own beautiful, wonderful person.”

“She has you fooled.”

“No,” he says, his voice rising an octave. “You’re the god damned fool. You never deserved her.”

“And you think you do? How lowly you must think of yourself.”

Again Robin’s head shakes. “No, I don’t deserve her, but for reasons I don’t completely understand, she loves me and—I love her.” He feels his jaw tightening as his anger seethes—and he thinks of ever bruise and every tear the king caused. “Do what you want to me, but I swear to god, if you so much as touch her, I will come back and haunt you and make you wish you could burn in hell.”

At that, Leopold scoff indignantly. “And you, a practical peasant, are telling a king what he can and cannot do with what’s his?”

“I may be a poor man,” Robin begins, “But you—you are despicable excuse for a man. You’re spineless and a waste of space and…” He watches as Leopold nods to his knights and again, he’s shoved roughly against the side of the cottage—and then, he yells out as two of them disappear into the cottage. His heart aches as he hears Regina scream. Using his shoulders he manages to shove away two of the knights holding back as he hears the sound of glass breaking—and then a moment later, they return with Regina. Tears fill her eyes as she looks to him and he twists his wrists, trying to escape the as she calls his name.

“Regina, did you really think this would work? Did you really think you’d get away with this?” Leopold asks in an icy voice as his eyes fall to the curve of her stomach, and his breath catches. “You’re… pregnant.” She swallows hard as he steps toward her, reaching out and pressing his hand to her midsection. “With my child?”

“No,” she says in a firm voice. “It’s not yours.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Do you actually think I’d have kept _your_ child?”

“You whore,” Leopold breathes out coarsely as the back of his hand crashes against her cheek and she stumbles back with a gasp. Throwing his shoulder forward he tries to reach for her, but again he’s slammed back against the cottage, suddenly feeling nauseous.

“That’s enough!” A voice calls out and he watches as both Leopold and Regina turn their heads. “Stop, right now!”

“Daddy,” he hears Regina murmur as her father stalks forward and from the corner of his eye, he sees Leopold take a step back.

Henry strides forward, suddenly seeming so much taller and more powerful than he was ever described. Standing toe-to-toe with the king, Henry’s eyes narrow. “If you speak of her that way again, you won’t live to regret it.”

“Daddy?”

“I’m not afraid of you, anymore, old man,” Leopold says, his voice shaking and suggesting otherwise. “One nod from me and my knights will have you bound up and thrown into the dungeons alongside your slutty daughter’s lover.”

“Is that so?” And then, suddenly, a swirl of dense smoke encompasses him and when it fades away, Henry is no longer standing in front of the king. Robin’s brow furrows as Regina’s eyes widen and a small gasp escapes her. “Hello, Leopold. It’s been a long time.”

“Cora…”

“I warned you not to speak of her in that way,” she murmurs in soft and almost blasé voice as she pulls the Dark One’s dagger from its sheath.  “But you’ve never been very astute.” 

She raises the dagger to his throat, and with other hand, she flicks her wrist, freezing the knights in place—and the next thing he knows, his hands are free and he’s running toward Regina. Pulling her into his arms, he hugs her close and presses a kiss to her temple as his heart beats wildly. Cora takes a step forward as Leopold’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back, once more she steps forward, grinning menacingly as she pins him against the side of the cottage. She presses the dagger to his throat and he winces as slices the first layer of skin, and then, without warning, her fist plunges into his chest as she pulls out his heart. Holding it in her palm, she looks down at it and gives it a little squeeze. Leopold winces and the dagger sinks a little deeper—and then, a smile twists onto her lips. “You bastard,” she mutters as she squeezes the heart until it turns to dust and the king falls to the ground.

Again, Regina gasps as her eyes widen and Robin hugs her tighter as Cora turns to them. “Regina,” she breathes out as her demeanor changes. “Oh, Regina…”

“Stop,” Regina breathes out. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Regina nods and pushes herself from Robin’s hold. “Physically, no,” she stays as she stands in front of him. “But forgive me for not trusting that you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Why would I hurt him?” Regina’s eyes widen as Cora nods, “Ah, because of Daniel.”

“Yes…”

“He’s a good man, Regina,” Cora says, looking to Robin. “I wasn’t sure at first, but… I have to say, I am happy for the two of you.” A small smile edges onto her lips. “I’ve thought that since he… cared for you the night you injured your foot.” She nods and her smile deepens. “And I knew it the night he cared for you the night the king so brutally forced himself on you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been watching,” Cora explains. “Your father summoned me. He was worried about your affair.” Taking a breath, Cora takes a step forward, her eyes staring into her daughter’s. “I’m so sorry, Regina. I should have never made you marry the king.”

Robin looks between them, watching as Regina’s jaw begins to tremble. “No, you… shouldn’t have.”

“I hope this… makes up for it in… some small way.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Assume the throne,” Cora says as a smile pulls across her face. “I have power and you have love. We both have our happy endings.”

“And Snow?” Regina asks, her voice shaking as she reaches for Robin’s hand. “What happens to her?”

“I have no interest in the girl, but I… assume you’re going to ask me not to harm her.” Regina nods and Cora sighs. “Very well then. You have my word.” Then she laughs as she lifts the bloodied dagger. “And you also have my word that the Dark One won’t bother you again,” she says, twisting it between her fingers. “He’s under my command now… as is the rest of the kingdom.”

And then, she vanishes in a cloud of smoke.

_____

It’s a hot day in June and Regina is visibly uncomfortable in the earliest stages of labor. She’s lying on their bed wearing a thin muslin night dress that’s drawn up to her knees, Robin’s sitting beside her—and he feels utterly helpless. He drops a cloth into a bowl of water that sits beside the bed, then dabs the cloth to her skin in an effort to make her a little more comfortable.

He smiles slightly as he slides the cloth over her clavicle then to the crook of her neck, and she sighs with odd mixture of discomfort and relief. Pressing her head back into the pillow, her eyes flutter open and she swallows hard.

“I can’t even imagine how much worse this is going to get,” she murmurs.

“Hopefully, it’ll be a quick delivery. Granny Lucas will be here soon to check on you.” Stroking his fingers through the front of her hair he sighs, looking down at the way her night dress clings to her skin. “Do you think you’d be a little more comfortable without the night dress?”

“No,” she says flatly as she blinks up at him. “I don’t.”

“I thought it might be cooler…”

“It might be,” she concedes. “But I’d rather Granny not come in and see me… so ungraciously sprawled out, bearing everything for her to see.”

“I hate to point out the obvious, love,” he begins as his slides the dabs over her forehead. “She’s going to see much more of you when you’re in labor.”

“Yes, but I’ll be too delirious with pain to care.”

He chuckles softly and shakes his head. He considers pointing out that is early and it’s just the two of them, and she doesn’t need to worry about sprawling ungraciously or bearing too much, but he doesn’t want to argue. So, instead, he dips the cloth back into the water and changes the subject.

“We still haven’t settled on names, you know.”

“I know,” she says with a sigh. “It’s just so hard to know what a fitting name would be when we haven’t even met him.”

“You mean her…”

“No,” she says as a grin tugs onto her lips as they slip into a familiar banter. “I mean him.”

“You are wrong about this one,” he says with a soft chuckle as they fall into a familiar pattern. “And we’ll know soon enough.”

Regina laughs as she turns her head to look at him. “Yes, we’ll soon know that I’m right.”

“For the sake of argument,” he begins as he dabs the cloth just beneath the neckline of her nightdress, “We could talk about names for a boy and a girl.” A smile pulls across her lips and she nods. “I think we should revisit ‘Henry.’”

At that, her eyes open. “I… didn’t realize we’d visited that name, at all.”

“Not officially, but you did tell me that story… about when you were little.” She rolls her eyes in response. “What? It was a cute story,” he insists. “I can just picture you—completely adorable with big brown eyes, your little hands carefully swaddling a doll in your blanket…”

“And I named a doll after my father because I was four and…”

“Loved him.”

“Yes,” she nods. “And… life hadn’t happened yet.”

“You two were so close.”

“Yes,” she says, nodding again as her smile fades. “Then life happened.”

Taking a breath, Robin leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead. Somehow, it always surprises him how guarded she is about her feelings—unwilling to admit that misses a part of her life that she’d given up when they’d run away together. She won’t admit that she misses her father or that she often wonders about him, yet every now and then, he creeps up in conversation or she’ll share a memory. He supposes it’s for his benefit and her way of showing that she doesn’t have regrets—and he supposes it’s also a way for her to protect herself.  

Before anymore can be said, she hisses and grimaces as another contraction comes. He holds her hand, letting her squeeze as she pulls herself up—and when her eyes open and her breathing steadies, she looks at him and he wishes there was more he could do to help.

“I just think it’s a cute name,” he tells her.

Regina sighs and shakes her head. “I’m the one who has to push this baby out of my body, so I’m the one who gets to name him. And I’m saying no to Henry.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Robin says with a soft laugh. “After all, we’re having a girl…”

Granny Lucas, the midwife, comes an hour or so later, and not long after arriving she tells that that their baby will definitely be born that day. Robin helps Regina up as the midwife spreads a layer of hay around a wooden birthing chair, explaining that it’ll help the mess—and he nods, eyeing it and thinking none of this looks very comfortable. He helps her onto the chair, rubbing soothing circles against her back as he kneels beside her. The contractions come quicker and last longer—and he tells her over and over again how brave and strong she is and how much he loves her—and he’s convinced none of it helps. He watches as Granny gets down in front of her, lifting and spreading her legs open as she tells her to start pushing.

He can’t help but think that it’s odd the way time passes—so slowly yet so quickly. Regina’s eyes are teary and her screams are muffled from exhaustion when Granny instructs him to grab the receiving blanket, announcing with a wide smile that the baby’s head is crowning. Robin nods and gets up—and suddenly, he’s aware that it’s dark outside. His heart skips a beat as reaches for the blanket, and then returns to them, crouching down beside Granny. 

“You’re doing great, Regina,” the she says. “Just a few more pushes.” Regina screams out and he takes her hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of her wrist as she squeezes his hand—and he watches as the midwife cradles the baby’s head. “Almost here,” she says, looking up at Regina, then nodding to Robin for the blanket—and then a moment later, the baby’s cry fills the room.

Almost immediately, Robin feels tears welling in his eyes and his chest almost aches with anticipation as the midwife sets the baby into the blanket and snips the umbilical cord. He feels a rush of emotion as his tears spill down his cheeks as the baby is placed into his arms, and her turns to Regina. “You were right,” he says, stooping down beside her and tipping his arms so that she can see the baby. “We have a son.”

“It’s really a boy?” She asks as a bright smile stretches over her lips, her breath catching as she looks at him, examining every inch of him. Reaching out she rubs her fingers against the baby’s foot, and briefly her eyes cast up to Robin. “He’s so tiny,” she says as Robin transfers the baby into her arms. “He’s…”

“Perfect,” Robin says. “He’s perfect.”

At the midwife’s prompting, he helps her up from the birthing chair. The baby is cradled in her arms and she’s shaky on her feet, so he scoops her up and carries her over to the bed. He lies beside her, mesmerized by the little boy in her arms—and mesmerized by her. Granny cleans up and shows her how to feed the baby, and with promises to return the next morning to check on them all, she leaves—and finally their alone.

“You’re… still sure about this, right?” Regina asks in a hushed whisper as she looks over at him. “You still think you can…”

“Love him?” He asks, scoffing at the questions as smile tugs onto his lips. “Oh, Regina, I know I can. I already do… and more than I ever thought I could.”

She smiles and nods. “Just checking,” she murmurs as she looks down at the baby who staring up at her with wide hazel eyes. “You know… I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but… he kind of looks like a Henry.”

“You think?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “And he… has my father’s cheeks and… his bald head.”

Robin laughs and nods. “He has your chin.”

She smiles and nods. “He does.”

“Maybe… in a couple of months,” Robin begins in a tentative voice as his eyes cast up to hers. “We could take him to see his namesake.” For a moment, she doesn’t reply. Instead she looks from him to the baby, and focuses on adjusting the blanket around the small boy. He sighs as he presses a kiss to her temple. “It was just an idea…”

“I know,” she murmurs softly. “And I think I’d… like to do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“I’m glad,” he replies, tears once more filling his eyes. “I’m more than glad today, actually… I… I feel like I could burst open at the seams.”

“I know the feeling,” she says, looking over at him almost sheepishly as she adds, “In fact, I did burst open at the seams.”

He laughs and nods, and kisses her again. “Thank you,” he says, almost abruptly and waiting for her eyes to turn upward before continuing. “I mean it—thank you for this, for giving me the chance to be his father.”

“I should be thanking you for wanting to be his father,” she murmurs, her voice catching in her throat. “When I think of… what his life could have been like, I…”

“Don’t think about that,” he interjects quickly. “Let’s just be grateful we have each other… grateful that we have him.” She nods as Henry begins to fuss, his little cry piercing through the quiet moment, and her attention turns to him. Robin watches as she rubs his tummy, her palm lightly pressing as her fingers trace circles onto his soft skin and she tells him over and over that he’s okay and he’s safe and that she loves him—and then, when Henry’s cry begins to fade, Regina looks up at him, smiling in happy triumph at her new success. Tears brim in his eyes as he presses a soft kiss to her forehead as his chest swells—and he finds himself falling in love with her all over again.

_____

“Alright, Henry,” Robin whispers as he lifts the chubby legged boy onto a tree stump and crouches down in front of him. “Are you clear on the plan?” Henry laughs and stomps his foot against the stoop, a little bubble of spit forming between his lips. “Okay,” Robin breathes out, his stomach fluttering nervously as he reaches for the boy’s hand. He grins as Henry looks down, watching as he ties a ribbon with a ring on it to the baby’s wrist. “Mama’s in the stable,” he whispers, lifting him up and kissing his cheek. “You know what to do… go find Mama.”

Robin sets Henry on the ground and turns him toward the little stable where Regina stands, brushing Rocinante. For a moment, Henry just stands there, looking back at him with wide eyes. Robin gently pushes him forward and he takes a few shaky steps. “Look,” Robin murmurs. “There’s Mama…” And this time, Regina catches Henry’s eye. Robin takes a breath, watching as Henry toddles toward her. He can’t help but smile and laugh as he follows behind him, watching the adorably awkward way the little boy toward his mother—much more a waddle than a run.

Leaning against the wooden frame of the tiny stable, Robin watches as Regina sweeps Henry up into her arms. She peppers his face with kisses and he laughs out—and Robin finds himself holding his breath as Henry lifts his hand to touch his mother’s cheek. Her eyes fall to the ribbon at his wrist.

“What’s this?” She asks in a sing-song voice, once more kissing the boy. “What do you have?”

Robin swallows as she draws up the ribbon and a little gasp escapes her as she looks up, immediately searching for him. A smile stretches across her lips and he steps toward her. “What do you think?” He asks as he reaches her, slowly pulling the silky ribbon from Henry’s wrist. “I know we said this didn’t matter but, what do you say we make things official?” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re tired of being scolded by bar maids and drunken old men,” she laughs as her bottom lip catches between her teeth. “So, if you want me to believe that you’re serious about this, you’re going to have to ask me properly.”

“Properly,” he repeats with a little chuckle and a nod before taking her hand and sinking down onto one knee. “Regina,” he begins, taking a breath as he wills the memorized speech he’d agonized over not to be forgotten. “When you came into my life, I didn’t even realize that I was lacking anything. And then, there you were—sitting on a stool across from me in my tavern, smiling and talking about true love and making me believe in fate. I didn’t know that I could love someone else so fiercely, I didn’t know that I’d be willing to risk everything for someone else, and I certainly didn’t know how rewarding that would be. Together we’ve faced it all, and more importantly, we’ve survived it all.  You’re everything to me, Regina—you’re my best friend and my lover, the mother to my son and… it’d be an honor if I could also say that you’re my wife.” He takes a breath, chuckling softly as Henry yells out, giggling at himself as he flops back and his little feet kick against Regina’s side. “Will you marry me, Regina?” 

She lets out a breath and laughs a little, and she nods as she sets Henry down. “Yes,” she says as Robin rises to his feet. “Of course, yes.”

He slides the ring onto his finger as he leans in—and before he can kiss her, Henry falls down at their feet and a little whimper escapes him. Robin laughs as he bends to scoop up the boy, tossing him into the air and catching him before cuddling him against his chest, making him laugh instead of cry—and then her lips come crashing down onto his.

“I don’t want to wait,” she murmurs against his lips—and he pulls back slightly, watching as a smile stretches onto her lips. “All we really need is someone to officiate and a witness, and… well, Henry, but that won’t be a problem.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as his smile brightens at thought of just diving in—and it seems so perfectly fitting for them. “What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” she nods as she leans back in. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

And it is.

Robin looks around himself—it’s a warm spring day and the wildflowers are beginning to bloom. The sun is shining and it’s vaguely reminiscent of the summer days he and Regina spent together when their relationship first began, and at that time, he never thought they’d end up where they now are—and what wonderful surprise it had been that they did. He glances up at the tavern, smiling at a garland of yellow trilliums that hand over the open door. Taking a breath, he goes inside—yellow trilliums hang along the bar where there’s an aisle of flower petals lining a path toward the back of the tavern and, he can’t help but laugh as his eyes fall on Henry, sitting in the middle of the eating one of the flowers.

“You’re supposed to be spreading those around,” Little John says, sighing as he scoops up the boy.  “Those are for the wedding, not lunch.” He offers a hearty laugh as he plucks away the flower. “It’s a good thing your mother didn’t catch you eating that, otherwise, I’d be burned to a crisp.”

“Yes,” Robin agrees with a laugh. “It’s a good thing his father caught it instead.” Little John looks up with wide eyes and grimaces. “I’ll take that,” Robin tells him, still laughing as he pulls Henry into his arms and cuddles him against his chest. “Thank you,” he says as his eyes shift back to Little John.

“For what?  Letting your kid eat a flower off of the floor?”

“No,” Robin says, his eyes rolling. “For setting all of this up on such a short notice. This place looks… incredible. And… for being such good friends to us.”

“You and Regina are pretty incredible, so… we’ve been glad to help.” Little John says, shrugging his shoulders. “Plus, Tink did most of the work here. This is… more her thing.”

“I bet it is,” Robin chuckles.

“Who’d have thought it though? You marrying the Queen.”

“The former queen,” Robin corrects. “And… it still amazes me how everything worked out for us the way it has. I… never expected this. I just thought we’d… go on with our affair, never really getting to be together.”

“Yeah…”

“Fate really was on our side.”

“Indeed it was,” Little John nods, looking around Robin as carriage pulls up to the front of the tavern. “And there’s the friar now.”

“The friar,” Robin breathes out, looking down to Henry as he shifts him up into the air and holds him up above his face, smiling as the little boy laughs out. “Do you hear that? That Friar’s here. The wedding’s about to begin!”

A few minutes later, he smiles at the small crowd of people in front of him—Little John and Tink sit side by side with Henry on her lap, and Granny Lucas’s and her granddaughter—and with them is Snow White, the girl who’d once been Regina’s stepdaughter and the girl she never mentions but constantly thinks about. When the Wedding March begins Regina steps down from the stairs—and his breath catches in his chest.

She’s wearing a cream colored dress that she’d owned in another life and there’s a green satin ribbon around her waist. Her hair is swept up and there’s a yellow trillium tucked into her hair, matching the bouquet she holds.

Leaning in, the Friar whispers to him, “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for this moment since the day that I met her,” he murmurs, not able to take his eyes off her.

He takes her hands when she reaches him, clutching them as the Friar starts the ceremony. They’re practically giddy as they recite their vows—and when the Friar announces tells him that he can kiss his bride, his hand sweeps up over her cheek to the back of her neck, and he draws her in, pulling her against him as he kisses her in a way that’s soft and intense, and so full of gratitude.

They stay for awhile, mingling with the handful of friends who attended the ceremony. Regina introduces Henry to Snow, letting her hold him and smiling gently as Snow tells her how happy she looks in her new life—and Robin can’t help but notice the way her eyes shift to him and her cheeks flush as she confesses she didn’t know that she could be this happy.

When the sun sets, they reluctantly say goodbye to Henry as Granny takes him, assuring them that their boy will be alright for the night. She leans in, reminding them that they deserve a proper wedding night and a late morning together; and he watches, as Regina nods and kisses the boy’s cheek—and his heart clenches when Henry waves goodbye to them.

The cottage is aglow when they reach it. Regina’s brow furrows as she look to him—and a smile pulls onto his lips as he leads her inside. There’s a fire roaring, and there are candles and yellow trilliums everywhere—something he’d planned but was the handiwork of Tink’s magic.

“Robin…” she murmurs turning to him, as words fail her. He smiles as she shakes her head, crossing the room toward him. Her hands hold his face as she draws him down to her, kissing him. He kisses her back and his hands find her waist. He eases her back to the bed as he tugs at the ribbon around her waist—and her lip catches between her teeth as she shrugs the dress off of her shoulders. Taking a breath, he watches as the cream colored fabric pools at her feet—and as his eyes trail up her, all he think of his how stunningly beautiful she is and how lucky he is to have her.

They fall into bed together—trading heated kisses for probing fingers, making love until they’re lying breathlessly together as the sun begins to rise. She presses a kiss to his chest and her tired eyes turn up to look at him.

“I, um… have a little wedding present for you.”

“You do?”

“I do,” she nods, taking a short breath as a smile pulls onto her lips. “I’ve been… trying to find the perfect time to tell you and…” Her cheeks flush. “This seems pretty perfect.”

“It is perfect.”

Again, she nods as a small smile pulls onto her lips. “I’m pregnant.”

He feels his chest tighten as his heart swells and his lips part—and before he can even think of the words he wants to say, a smile stretches across his lips and his arms fold around her. He rolls her over, peppering kisses over cheeks and neck as his and slide up her sides as she laughs out.

“You’re happy, then?” She asks, reaching out and combing her fingers through his hair. “We haven’t really talked about a second child but…”

“I’m elated.”

“I’m glad,” she says, quietly as her lip catches between her teeth. “Because… I am too.” And then once more, his lips find hers and he eases her back against the pillows.  



End file.
